Goldfish and Fruit Punch
by Indirect Regret
Summary: Lucy Wright is hardly the definition of graceful, so when she falls for Danny Jones, there's no such thing as a smooth landing.
1. An Answer

**Prologue. **

_Hey Lucy  
__What have you done to me?  
__You leave me breathless  
__Anything but hopeless  
__You are so much more than  
__I ever could've dreamed_

_Hey Lucy  
__What is it about your smile?  
__It makes my heart want to burst  
__And I know I can't be cursed  
__'Cause I've found you  
__And you're beautiful_

_Hey Lucy  
__What did you see in me?  
__I'm just a stupid boy  
__Used you like a toy  
__You deserved so much better  
__Oh, way better than me_

_But I still want you  
__Don't know what to do  
__Can't look you in the eye  
__'Cause your pain is all I see  
__And it's all my fault  
__Yes, it's all on me  
__And I'm so sorry_

I turn off the TV and run my fingers through my hair absently. I always thought it would be cool to have a song written about me. Till it happened. "That son of a..." I whisper under my breath, trailing off, feeling a lump in my throat. He had actually gone on TV and sang that song for everyone to hear. Did he think that it'd make me want him back? Was that really his master plan? "Hey Lucy, what did you see in me?" is the line that plays in my head over and over again, because I honestly don't have an answer to that. I bite down on my lip and run a hand through my hair again. It's become a nervous habit.

I sit down on my little hotel bed for what felt like hours before I finally get up, getting an answer to a question I never heard, not even in my head. But I guess sometimes the unspoken things, the things you keep tucked away because you're afraid, are the ones that could change your life. Maybe it would only change a minute of my life, or a week, or a month. Maybe it wouldn't change a thing at all. Or, maybe, it would change things forever.


	2. A Lager

**Chapter One.**

_2006._

I'm in London. I'm really, truly, in London. I still can't believe it.

My dad's eagerness to let me go to London was suspicious, sure, but I wasn't going to question it. I had been bugging him since I could speak to somehow get me here and now it was really happening. And when you get something you've wanted for a long time, you don't question how or why, you just take it.

My dad had grown up here and he said that he thought it was a good idea for me to "see where he came from."

I know I'm a nineteen-year-old woman who's perfectly capable of making her own decisions and living her own life, but I lacked one necessity for traveling to London after high school: cash.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't make my dad pay for the entire thing; I had saved up some money from my after-school job at a restaurant for the past year right off of my campus. But I hadn't saved quite enough to be able to just travel to London on a whim and survive for more than a few days. And I want way more time here than that. The whole summer seemed more suitable.

My dad didn't want me to go till he found me "responsible enough" anyway. I still would've gone if he hadn't---assuming I had cash, of course---but it did make me feel less guilty for taking his money somehow.

I throw my bags down on the floor of my hotel room---which cost a fortune, but I was desperate to get out and explore, and this place was the closest from the airport---and grab my wallet, shoving it in my pocket. There's a sort of adrenaline rush going through me, being here. It's the weirdest thing. I just felt so _alive_ suddenly. More than I ever had back in New York. I have to move, to do something besides just sit here. So a walk was my solution.

There's a pub three buildings down from where I'm staying and as I walk by, I feel a certain pull to go in. So I do. I never resist a gut urge.

The pub was exactly like I thought it would be like. There's a few old tables set out with some chairs around them that looked antique. A fireplace acted like a centerpiece to the entire place, exactly parallel to the bar.

It wasn't very busy; just an old man at a corner table alone and a few middle-aged women who were eyeing three twenty-something guys (if they were even that old) that sat at a table right next to the fireplace. I can't help but smile at the way one woman---bright, obviously-dyed red hair---licks her lips and raises her eyebrows seductively at them every few seconds. The two fake blonds flash smiles and giggle when one of the boys gave them a polite (and obviously forced) smile.

What can I say? I love people watching.

I sit myself down on a stool at the bar and the bartender looks at me for a second, almost like he's studying me. "Tourist," I hear him say just loud enough for me to hear, though I'm sure if I'm supposed to.

I'm taken aback for a second. Was it that obvious? It wasn't like I had a camera strapped to my neck with an "I Heart London" t-shirt on.

"What can I get you?" he asks, not sounding rude, but not exactly sounding like he wants to be best friends either.

"Um," I say, feeling suddenly self-conscience of my American accent, "a lager?" It comes out like a question. Great.

He just nods moving to the other side of the bar, and he grabs a glass, filling it from the tap. Then, like you always seem to see in the movies, he slides the glass from his side to mine. And I barely catch it in time, beer slopping on my hand.

I just wipe it on my jeans, mutter a thanks, and drink.

There's something about being by yourself at a bar that makes you feel extra-lonely, and I can feel that feeling creeping in on me slowly at the same time I hear a male voice half-yell near my ear, "Hey, Sam! I need two more!"

Sam nods, and whips out two glasses, filling them with a blank expression on his face. Sam couldn't have been any older than late thirties, but his emotionless expressions and the rings around his dark brown eyes make him look ten years older automatically.

"Don't mind Sam," says the guy that yelled in my ear. He taps on the bar like he has some sort of song going on in his head and he's keeping the beat. Every so often, he flicks his straight brown hair out of his eyes, making it look like he has some sort of nervous twitch. "He doesn't say much these days after Chloe left."

I had no clue who Chloe was but I just nod like I know the whole story and sip my beer, turning my head away from him.

"He hasn't smiled since she's gone," he continues. "It's really quite sad. He's a good guy, but he let's things eat at him."

"I can hear, you know," Sam says, sounding a little annoyed. He slides the glasses over to the guy, who has beer slop on his hands too. "And I'd really appreciate you not talking about me to strangers who probably could care less."

The guy just shrugs. "Someone needs to explain your behavior." I notice then how much thicker his accent was compared to Sam's. Sam's was more proper, like my dad's.

"You just couldn't think of a decent chat up line, so you used me as an excuse to talk to this girl," Sam says. "But really all you're doing is boring her to death."

The guy pretends to act hurt at Sam's accusations. "Why, I never---"

"Shut it," Sam says and he walks away to clean up the old man's table.

I take a drink and see from the corner of my eye that the guy is still standing there, tapping on the counter.

"Sorry," he says and I turn to face him.

"About what?" I say. "Sam, your story, or the fact that you're still standing here?"

He looks surprised for a second, but then he smiles, and I'll admit that I do have an urge to bite my lip at it. It was charming and mischievous at the same time. "Ah, an American. That explains it then."

I raise my eyebrow. "Explains what?"

"Well y'see, there are the same people that come here every night," he says. "And you, I did not recognize." He points at where the old man was sitting. "That's Oliver's spot right there"---He points to where the middle-aged women are---"and that's where Steph, Anna, and Charlotte always are"---He shifts his body towards his table---"and that spot right there is where me and my mates sit every night."

One of the guys---a round-faced blonde---then signals towards the guy and points at the beer he has in his hand.

"Oh. Right," he says, like he just remembered he had the drinks in his hand this whole time. "Well then, I'd better be going then. If you need to know anything, just come on over. We don't bite."

"Thanks," I say, taking a drink. "But I think I'll be fine."

He smiles at me, saying, "Sure," before he walks away back to his friends. I finish off my beer a few minutes later and was about to ask for another when I hear the creek of a barstool next to me. I roll my eyes.

"You look lonely," he points out. "No one should ever drink alone."

I roll my eyes again. "What are you doing?"

"All right, so maybe Sam had it right," he says. "I'm sort of trying to…" He trails off and I finish it off for him.

"Chat me up?"

"Yeah. Working?"

I shrug. "Buy me another beer and maybe it will."

He smiles. "Danny," he says, sticking his hand out.

I smile back, but don't take his hand. "Lucy," I say, still smiling, "and I'll have a lager."


	3. A Letter

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! I really appreciate it! :)

**Chapter Two.  
**  
I roll over in my bed the next morning and my body meets the floor with a loud thump. I grab my head that's pounding---thank you, hangover---and moan. I have never been drunk before and this is definitely not something I plan on experiencing again anytime soon. I don't even remember what happened.

I rest my head against the carpet of the floor and my hair hangs in my face like a dark brown curtain. It's weird though; it almost smells like a…pond. With that thought, I notice something black that's close to my face. I squint to figure out what it was before I realize it's my bra. And it's the one I wore last night.

I then realize the only thing I'm wearing is a sheet that has managed to roll off with me when I fell and I feel instantly sobered, my head not feeling pain so much as regret.

_Did I…? Had I just…?_ "Crap," I whisper.

_No, no, no, _I think. _Nothing happened last night. I wouldn't forget that. I'm sure there's a logical reason for why I'm naked right now and why my hair smells weird and the fact that this is totally not my hotel room floor. _

_Oh, God._

I slowly get up and peek over at the bed. That guy from last night---at least, I think it was that guy---lay there face down, snoring, just his naked back visible. Well, at least he has a nice body.

What? Might as well look on the bright side of this, right? Oh, God, I am so shallow.

I grab my clothes that are damp---seriously, what happened last night?---and slip them on as fast as possible, hoping that Eric won't wake up.

No, wait. His name was Andrew. Or Jason. Devin?

_Well, hell, Lucy. Way to go. You can't even remember his freakin' name._

I quickly put my hair up in a ponytail and then attempt opening the window as quietly as possible, but when I finally do manage to get it open, it slides right back down with a loud bang. I look back at him quickly, my heart in my throat, afraid that I had woken him up. He doesn't even flinch.

I try to open it again and manage to keep it open---but barely---this time. I slide myself under the narrow opening---but luckily, he was on the first floor---and saw a flash of light as I manage to get my balance. "What was that?" I whisper to myself before I hear something stirring outside that makes me jump and run.

At least I didn't get caught.

----

The first thing I do when I get back to my hotel room is shower. The smell of pond seemed to become more apparent to me the longer I am awake, and it's starting to make me feel dizzy. Or maybe it's the hangover. Either way, I figured a shower would do me good.

I'm half hoping that I won't remember a thing from last night, but another half of me wants to know every detail. Why do I always contradict myself?

I open up my suitcase, rummaging for my favorite t-shirt and rattiest pair of jeans---I need some sort of comfort right now. I felt so awful for what happened and I don't even know what that was exactly.

"Ah, there you are," I say cheerfully as I pull out my shirt. Something white flutters out as I shake it out and it hits the ground. I furrow my brow, curious, as I bend down to pick it up.

It's an envelope.

Anxious to see what's inside, I rip it open hastily. Two pieces of paper are inside and I begin to read:

**Jack Michael Wright II.**

Jack Michael Wright II, 82, passed away on Tuesday, twentieth of May at St. Mary's Hospital, his family at his side. Wright was a WWII veteran and worked at Mitchell's Inn for over fifty years. Wright was predeceased by his mother, Lucy (Elright), and his father Jack Wright. He married Sophie (Alexander) and fathered three children, Jack III, David, and Andrew. He left behind four grandchildren (Kieran, Tegan, Evie, and Dulce) along with one great grandchild (Nadia). Services will be held on the twenty-sixth of June and will be private for only the immediate family members and a few servicemen.

Jack,

I thought you may like to know this and since you never answer your telephone, I assumed you would at least look at the letter box. Now perhaps it's time to finally show your face to the family once and for all, eh? And why don't you bring Lucy along with you? I'm sure Mum would love to meet her---but of course, that's up to you. I know how you are.

You may just shred this the moment you get it and I understand. I know our family has had it's fair share of blowouts over the years. But you should really think about it. I want you to meet my kids and my wife (remember that girl I went on about in first year? Yes, her! Can you believe it?) and I'd like to meet yours as well. I haven't seen Lucy since she was three or so (and you can see by the obituary that I kept my promise and never told anyone else about her, but I still say you're being ridiculous).

He's our dad, Jack, and despite all the (in my opinion) complete rubbish that went on with you two, I believe that he would want you here now---especially to help with Mum. I know you miss us, Jack. And Dad missed you, too, despite what you may think.

Mum's been asking about you a lot and I think it would do her some good to see you again. She's been a bit down since even before Dad died. His stroke took a lot out of the both of them.

Please, just think about it all right? I miss my older brother! Andrew misses you, too, in case you were wondering.

Write me or ring me or just show up. Just do something. Mum lives in the Tower Hamlets borough now and I've attached the address at the bottom if you'd like to come. Ring me if you'd like to hang out with me at first instead.

Love,  
David.

_Deltham Flats. Flat 3C (third floor). Look it up on Google maps---it'll give you better directions than me by far, but I suppose you already knew that._

All I can do is stare till I'm cross-eyed at it. My dad has lied to me for nineteen years, and I had believed it all. What else did I believe that wasn't true all these years? I have this family that my dad chose to tell me about through a letter sent to him weeks ago. This is a completely typical move of him. He was always making me figure out all sorts of things since I could read by leaving little clues around the house. Anything to avoid confrontation, I guess.

But this isn't fair. He shouldn't have been allowed to keep this from me. And why does he choose to let me know about them now? Because my grandfather's dead? Because he felt like it?

I want to crumple the paper up and chuck it at his face. No, wait, I want to punch him where it would hurt most for him, because this is how it feels to me. He had just punched me in the gut, and he probably doesn't even care.

Am I supposed to be thrilled about this? Am I supposed to go, "Yay, I _do_ have a family out there after all! Thanks for telling me, Dad!" because that isn't going to happen.

Sure, I'll admit there's this little part of me that is rejoicing at the fact of having aunts and uncles and cousins and a grandmother not too far away, but…I should've known about them already.

I feel like a complete idiot. First, I don't care to realize the suspicions I had of my dad about this whole trip. Then, I get drunk, have a one-night stand with a guy I don't know the name of. And then, the icing on top of the cake: the hidden family that, if I had snuck around long enough, I probably could've found myself. But, by the sounds of things, I'm a pretty well-kept secret too. Why is that?

_What now?_ I wonder, staring at the paper. I know I'm nowhere near ready to go straight to my grandmother's today. Even I know better than to rush into that right away.

Checkout time is in a half an hour, so I decide to pack up my things and leave early. When I get into my taxi and the driver asks me where I'd like to go, I don't have an answer.

"Miss," he says when I don't say anything, "where would you like to go?"

"Um," I say, struggling for words. I out my hands in my pocket and I don't feel my wallet in either one. "Well, hell," I whisper under my breath. I must've given the only money I had stuffed in my pockets to the other taxi driver earlier. And who knows where my wallet is.

The driver raises his eyebrows, and I can sense him getting annoyed by my indecision. I don't know what else to say, and I know that when I don't have any money when this ride is over, I'm completely screwed, so I say, "Tower Hamlets?" He just nods, and drives off.

I lean my head back and sigh. I guess now I don't have much of a choice but to sleep on the streets or face my grandmother who doesn't know I'm alive and hopes she'll believe me and let me sleep on the floor.

Rain starts to fall and it gradually becomes harder and harder. Normally, rain wouldn't bother me, but since I don't have a definite place to sleep tonight, it seems like a pretty bad omen.

Life just keeps getting better, doesn't it?


	4. A Taxi Drive

**Chapter Three.  
**  
"Damn," I say when the drivers asks for money and I pat at my pockets. "I swore my wallet was here someplace." I have to bring my best acting skills out or else…well, I honestly don't know what will happen. I usually pay for my taxis.

I hear him sigh and he says, "No money?"

I give him my best I'm-so-sorry-I'm-so-pathetic look and hope it will get me out of whatever trouble I'm in. The rain is even harder now and I can barely see out my door. I do see a sign that says "Mitchell's Inn" outside though, and I hope that maybe I can hang around in there for a while, until I get the nerve to face my grandmother.

"I am so sorry---" I start, but he cuts me off.

"I'll make you a deal," he says, his voice sounding a little flat. "A ride for a date."

I take a look at the man and see that he's got to be in his forties, at least. There are crow's feet around his eyes and more wrinkles appear the longer I look. "Oh, um, I don't date old---I mean---older men. Sorry."

I see him roll his eyes. "I'm actually talking about my nephew. His mum is bothering him to date more and I thought I could do you both a favor---and myself, for that matter. I'm sick of hearing my sister complaining."

"Oh." I feel my cheeks get warmer. "Um, sure?" I say uncertainly. _Oh, God, please don't make his nephew look like Shrek._

"All right then," he says. "Meet him at the front of this place tomorrow at noon."

"Okay," I say, my voice cracking. This whole thing makes me nervous, but I need to do something to get out of this, right? "Thanks," I say as I climb out of the taxi with my luggage.

"Oh, no," he says, "thank you."

I gulp, that much more nervous.

_Argh, why did I have to lose my wallet?_

----

It takes me ten minutes to work up the nerve to even walk into Mitchell's Inn, which I know is ridiculous. This is the place where my grandfather worked, as in past tense. I know I'm not going to run into him…unless he happens to be a zombie. And I have to admit that it would be kind of cool to have a zombie grandfather.

_Oh, my God, Lucy,_ I think, feeling completely crazy for even thinking what I just thought. _Lay off the horror flicks, will ya? Maybe start watching some other genre instead._

When I step in, I see that the place is completely deserted. There's a bar, but no bartender, and tables and chairs set up with no customers sitting down.

"We're closed!" I hear a woman yell, and I look around for her. Where is she?

I just stand there, feeling panicky. What if that woman is my grandmother?

Just then, a woman pops up out of the bar with a cardboard box full of empty boxes. She has her blond hair stuck on her face and in her eyes. I know that this woman is most definitely not my grandmother; she couldn't have been much older than me.

"Are you deaf?" she snaps and I jump a little bit. She comes out from behind the bar and sets the box on the bar. She comes closer. "We. Are. Closed." She's a good three inches shorter than me (and I'm five foot four here) and she's a little bit chubby. Her gray eyes show her anger well.

"I'm sorry," I say as smoothly as I can. "I was just looking for someone."

Her brows raise. "Who?" Is everyone around here this cranky?

"Okay, I'm not really looking for someone _per se_---" I say, but she cuts me off.

"Then get the hell out," she says, heading back for the box.

Just about any other person would've probably walked out of there, but I'm no quitter, and she's getting me a bit pissed off. I don't like being pushed around.

"It's just that," I start off, trying to make my voice sound more intimidated than mocking, "my grandfather used to work here and---"

"Yeah, sure he did," she says, rolling her eyes. "Tourists," she mutters as she sorts through the bottles and puts them in a bin.

"It's true," I say strongly. "His names was Jack. Jack Wright."

Her hand grasps the empty rum bottle and she turns around to face me again. "Really?"

I nod. "Why would I lie about that?"

She shakes her head at me. "But you're American," she points out.

"Oh, is _that_ where I come from? Good to know." I'd bite my tongue, but it hurts. I never hold back anything, including sarcasm.

"Listen, you---"

"Lucy."

"I don't care." She throws the rum bottle in a bin and grabs another, brandishing it around like it's a weapon, like it's supposed to intimidate me.

I pull the letter from my uncle David and the obituary out from my back pocket and shove it in her hands. "Believe me now?"

Her expression while she's reading changes from This-is-complete-bullshit to What-the-hell? to Oh-my-God-she's-telling-the-truth. I cast her a smug smile and she flicks the hair from her eyes.

"Well then," she says bitterly with a smile to match. "Welcome home, Cousin."

----

Dulce, my long lost cousin that I am currently wishing to be still lost, makes me sit down at the bar and dry glasses. I do it absently and she notices how I'm drifting off and yells at me every so often. She's a real sweetheart.

She looks at me with disgust when she sees I'm all done and begins to examine the glasses, making sure I didn't "miss a spot". I roll my eyes at her and once she's done, she says, "Why did you come here?"

She says it like I've just ruined her whole life and I don't know what to say. "I don't really know," I admit. "I just found that letter this morning and I had nowhere else to go."

"But why do you show up here?" she says. "Why not go to Gran's? You had the address."

I shrug. "Hoping to run into someone as pleasant as you, I guess."

I hear her whisper, "Cheeky little twit" and I roll my eyes. My dad always calls me cheeky.

"What do you mean by 'had nowhere else to go' anyway?" she asks while she's putting the glasses away.

"I lost my wallet," I say, not bothering to mention where or how I think I lost it.

"Ah, I get it," she says. "You want money."

"No," I defend. "I don't. I just wanted…" I trail off. What did I want, besides a roof over my head? "I was going to get kicked out of my room today and I guess I was hoping that I could get a roof to sleep under, what with all the rain going down today."

"Well, don't expect that from me," she says.

"I wasn't," I state simply. "And if you did offer me one, I wouldn't accept it." She would probably smother me with a pillow.

She purses her lips and I feel another question coming on. "You honestly didn't know about any of us?"

I shake my head. "You honestly didn't know about me?"

She shakes her head. "I'll call Uncle David," she says suddenly. "He's got some explaining to do."


	5. A Lie

**Chapter Four.  
**  
My uncle David---which feels so weird to even think---walks in fifteen minutes after Dulce's call. I am sitting exactly where I have been most of this time and he doesn't even notice me when he yells, "Dee, where are you?"

Dulce comes out from the back and puts on a sugary sweet smile that surprises me. It almost looks fake, but then again, it probably is. "Hey, Uncle David," she says.

He looks like a slightly younger version of my dad with his dark brown hair---like mine---that is obviously naturally straight---not like mine---and his green eyes with the speckles of blue. They share the same broad nose and dimples, too. It's uncanny. The only difference is that David's face is more friendly and welcoming, whereas my dad's seems more cross. Maybe it's because David smiles, something my dad doesn't do very often.

"You said you had a problem with one of the taps?" he says and then he looks over at me. I look down at the bar, feeling self conscious. "A customer?" he asks, confused.

Dulce's shrugs and says, "It's right over here."

Uncle David passes by me, giving me one last quick glance, before he goes behind the bar and starts toying with a tap. "Seems all right to me," he says.

"Are you sure?" she says. "It wasn't working a little while ago."

I see him fooling around with something else on it. "Maybe because it's empty," he says. "You didn't care to check on that before calling me?" He doesn't sound angry with her at all, just suspicious.

She gives him a look that says Whoops? and says, "I suppose I do have other intentions here."

Uncle David sighs. "I'm not loaning you more cash," he says. "Ask your dad."

She rolls her eyes. "It isn't about cash."

"Then what is it about?" He sounds like he doubts this.

"Do you happen to know if our family has any…secrets?"

His eyebrows crash together. "Secrets? Why?"

"Just curious," she says, and I know that that's exactly the truth. She had assured me before David showed up that the reason for inviting him over was her pure curiosity and that it wasn't meant to be for my benefit.

Seriously, she's incredibly pleasant to be around.

"Not as far as I know."

"Liar," I whisper so quietly that I'm surprised when I hear David say, "What was that?"

Another situation where I should bite my tongue, but know that it isn't possible. I don't tolerate lying. "I said 'liar'."

He looks at me and I can't decipher what he's thinking. Then, I can see that light go off in his head and he says, "Oh, my God."

Dulce clears her throat. "You don't know any secrets, Uncle David?"

He continues looking at me intently. "Lucy." It's not a question.

"The one and only," I say softly. My heart starts to pound now that I know that he knows me. I'm afraid and nervous and even a little excited. But mostly, I feel confused about all of this. Questions still hang around my head.

"I haven't seen you since your mum…" He trails off, and I can see he regrets what he's said. The truth is, it doesn't hurt to hear him say it; it barely stings. She had died when I was three and I barely remember her. It's my dad that people should be sensitive around, not me.

I still don't say anything back, regardless, and there's this thick awkward silence between us.

"Why'd you keep her a secret, David?" Dulce asks, the silence obviously becoming unbearable for her. It's okay, though; I want to know the same thing.

"Did your dad tell you about any of this?" Uncle David asks, ignoring Dulce's question.

"Not a word," I say. "He slipped a letter from you in my bag and that's how I wound up here."

He looks annoyed. "Typical," he says. "I'm guessing he gave you a trip to London before that letter slipped up?"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'gave' exactly, but pretty much, yeah."

"Rubbish," he mutters under his breath. "Complete bloody rubbish."

"Ahem," Dulce goes, and David whips his head around to face her. "So, what's with the secrets?"

"I kept her a secret because I was told to. He kept all of us a secret because he wanted to."

Dulce then asks the question in my head: "But why?"

Uncle David opens his mouth, then shuts it, stopping himself from saying something I assume he will regret. "No. I'm not saying a word."

"What? Why---?"

"Because it's about time that my brother faces up to this _crap_ himself," he says, annoyed. He turns to face me. "I'll tell you this much: Your dad is a complete coward and he always runs away from anything that smells of trouble. Anything." He pauses and says, "If you'll excuse me, I should go home now. Leah's probably waiting."

I want to say, "Wait, I need to know more!" but for once, I stop myself. David isn't going to tell me anything, that much is obvious.

I watch him walk out the door and not too long after, I get up off my feet and walk out after him. Dulce calls after me, asking me where the hell I think I'm going, but I don't answer.

If David isn't going to give me answers, then maybe my grandmother will.

_----_

I don't know what I'm doing here exactly. This was the one thing I _didn't_ want to do today, and yet, here I am, standing right in front of my grandmother's flat, just waiting for someone to buzz themselves in so I can slip through the door.

I walked the whole way here, and the rain still hasn't stopped, so I'm soaked and shivering. I feel like crying and yelling and punching something and I wonder why it is that I'm stuck in this situation now.

_Because my dad's a pansy,_ I think, _and because I'm stupid and lost my wallet, and because whoever has the remote control to my life likes to watch me squirm. That's why. _

After what feels like hours, someone walks up to the apartment door and buzzes in. I slip into what's left of the opening just in time and make my way up to the third floor.

_I can't believe I'm doing this,_ is stuck on repeat in my head and I can't shut it off. I don't like what I'm doing at all, and I want to run in the other direction the second I see the door that says "3C". But I knock with my shaking fist and breathe and ignore my pounding chest.

My grandmother answers five knocks later, a polite smile on her face. "Yes, dear?" she says, looking at me with some sort of concern. She's noticed I'm shivering and wet and she's also noticed that she has no idea who I am.

My teeth clank together when I try and speak. I manage to stop my jaw from shaking, to say, "Sorry, wrong door. Didn't mean to bother you." I am such a chicken.

I turn my back and hear her say, "Just a second, dear," and I turn around to face her. I notice that her eyes are just like Dad's and David's and that she still has that smile on her face. "You must be freezing. Come on in."

"N--no, really, I'm fine," I manage to say. "My grandmother is waiting for me."

She raises her eyebrows, like she doesn't believe me, and says, "Just come on inside and dry off. You'll worry your grandmother to her grave if you show up like that."

Reluctantly, I accept, and step into her flat. She heads off in a different direction and I take it as my queue to stay put and examine my surroundings.

It's cramped with stuff. There are photo albums stacked on three different tables and yarn is scattered all over, but mostly on a leather recliner. The kitchen is weirdly organized, though, and I wonder what the rest of the place looks like.

"You should take a shower," she tells me. I notice a towel in her hand, and she hands it over to me. "Use the robe that's hanging on the doorknob and ut your wet clothes in the dryer in there."

"Oh, you really don't have to---" I say, feeling guilty about what she's doing and the fact that I'm lying to her.

"Nonsense," she says sternly. "It's the first door to the left. Go on."

I do as she says and take my second shower of the day. My hangover had either completely disappeared or I had become comfortable with it, because I could feel my head pounding and aching all over again. Maybe it was because of the lying I had done today. For someone that can't stand liars, I do seem to do it a lot.

Again with the contradicting.

I sigh, grabbing the robe off the hook, still shivering. I dry my hair off with the towel the best I can and then I gather all my clothes together, toss them into the dryer, and I step out of the bathroom.

"Thank you for this," I tell her and I mean it.

She waves off my thanks and tells me, "No problem, love. If it were my granddaughter in this mess, I'd hope someone would do the same for her."

I have a hard time not laughing at that and saying, "You have no idea," but for the second time today, I keep my mouth shut.

"Sit down," she says, gesturing at her kitchen table. She heads for her cupboards as I make my way into the kitchen, trying not to bump into one of the tables right before it that has a huge stack of photo albums. I am curious about the pictures inside them, however, and wonder what kind of embarrassing school photos there are of my dad. He doesn't have any pictures at home of his early years.

"Would you like some tea?" she asks, pouring a cup for herself.

"No thank you," I say. She sits down and it feels as though she's trying to read me. I look down at the table and clear my throat.

"So you're grandmother lives here," she says.

"Yes," I reply.

"And you live in America," she continues.

I nod.

"Did your father or mother live here at one point?"

I nod again. What else am I going to say? She's said the only thing I know for sure and I really don't want to lie anymore.

"You have rather peculiar eyes," she points out and I just know I must be blushing. "The color's very…unique."

I shrug it off. "Never really noticed," I quietly say and I really hadn't. I didn't see anything weird about the fact that my eyes started off brown and then worked its way into a green that resembled a grape (or so my dad says).

"What's your name, love?" she asks, purely curious.

I'm afraid to say. I feel like I'm giving myself away by just saying it, and I don't know why. I know I'm being ridiculous.

"Lucy," I say after much hesitation.

"Hello, Lucy," she says, that smile still there. It's nice to know that there's someone who isn't cranky all the time around here. "I'm Sophie."

I know, I whisper in my head, but I say, "Nice to meet you, Sophie."

She sips on her tea and lets out a deep breath. "This is nice."

I look up at her, but she's looking around her kitchen, her eyes fixed on one particular spot. I want to turn around and she what's caught her attention, but then she says, "I've been a little lonely since my husband died last month," and I assume it's a picture of my grandfather or something like that.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I tell her and I give her a small smile. Her eyes are back on me and she gives me one back.

"Yes, well, we can't all live forever, now can we?" It sounds like a subject-changer and I can hear in her voice that she's a bit dismayed. I feel this sudden urge to wrap my arms around her in a hug and say something---anything---to make her feel better. But what would I say? I can't even say I really know her, and that fact makes me upset. I had already lost nineteen years with her; who knows how much time I have left with her?

A lump is in my throat now and I can feel tears stinging my eyes. Why was this overwhelming me so much?

"Are you all right, dear?" she says, concern in her eyes.

I nod slowly, looking down at my hands. "I will be."

"You know," my grandmother says, "I could use some help around the house these days. How would you like to come by on Tuesday?"

I smile. "Sure."

"Well, wonderful," she says. I hear the buzzer for the dryer go off.

"I should probably get going," I say. "My grandmother's probably getting worried."

She just nods her head and I walk into the bathroom and change. When I come out, I say thanks one last time and she, once again, waves it off like it's no big deal.

Then, I walk out of her flat, make it as far as the stairwell, and then I cry.


	6. An Acquaintance

**Chapter Five.  
**  
"I went to her," I say as I walk into Mitchell's Inn about an hour after going to my grandmother's place. Dulce is wiping down all the tables and when she hears my voice, her head snaps up. She looks annoyed.

"And?" she says, giving me a And-your-point-is…? look.

"And I couldn't tell her," I say. "I don't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything."

She rolls her eyes at me. "And why should I care?"

I shrug. "I didn't think you would. But, I need a place to stay tonight, and---"

"I am _not_ giving you a place to stay, I already told you that. Long lost cousins don't come anywhere near my flat---"

"If you'd let my finish," I say impatiently, "you'd see that that's not what I want."

"Then what is it that you want from me?" she asks warily.

"David's number," I say simply. "And if you're as curious as you say you are about the family secret, I suggest being a little nicer to the person who's going to find it out."

She runs a hand through her hair before she says, "Fine," grudgingly. She pulls out a pad of paper and a pen and scribbles it down. She hands it to me and says, "But you'd better tell me everything you find out."

----

"No," David says, "absolutely not."

I've told him the whole story (minus the one night stand part) and he still seems to have no sympathy towards me. "But I thought---" I start out, but he interrupts me. Wasn't he the one that sent the letter to my dad in the first place? Didn't he want to see me? Or was the fact that my dad was such an obvious ass to the whole family enough to leave me on the streets?

"I'm sorry to hear about all of this, Lucy, I really am, but, I cannot let you stay here. My wife would have a heart attack."

I sigh. "Well," I say, "I can't say I'm surprised exactly, and I can't say I blame you. But…" I trail off. I hate asking for things.  
"I'll help you out," David says. "You just…you can't stay here."

I nod my head and then remember that I'm on the phone. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm renovating the flat upstairs from the Inn," he explains. "It's pretty…rough around the edges right now, but the bedroom is renovated."

I'm afraid to ask. "What about the bathroom?"

There's a slight hesitation on his side. "Just use the Inn's toilet," he says.

"And when I need to shower?" I don't mean to sound like I was being picky; I have no right to be, as desperate as I am.

"Don't worry about that," he says. "I'm almost done installing that anyway. I'll come over sometime today or tomorrow and hook it up. You know, maybe I'll just finish the whole bathroom by this week. I've been stalling doing that, but now I have my chance."

"I wish there was some way to repay you…"

"Hey, it isn't that nice of a place," he says. "Don't worry about it."

"C'mon. There's got to be something I can do. You're making me feel guilty here."

"Oh, I have an idea," Uncle David says. I can hear the smile in his voice and it makes me nervous. "How good are you at being a waitress?"

----

I didn't know that my grandfather _owned _Mitchell's Inn (after the owner, whose name was Mitchell, bit the dust). And I didn't know that my Uncle David _inherited_ it. And I really, really, didn't know I'd have to _work _with Dulce for the rest of the summer.

I don't tell Uncle David that I had been demoted from waitress to dishwasher at my job because I kept dropping things. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Granted, it might hurt the customers or me, but I try not to dwell on that.

When Dulce hears the news, she takes it like I thought. "Great," she says bitterly. "Now we get to spend all sorts of time together." She rolls her eyes and throws an apron at me. "Put your orders up where those clothespins are." She points at an opening with a string attached at both sides, with clothespins stuck on them. "Don't screw up."

"Thanks for the encouragement, Cousin." I tie the apron around my waist and see that I have a customer. I swallow, my hands shaking. _"Don't screw up."_ Her words won't leave me alone as I step closer to the man's table.

"Hello," I say, my voice shockingly even. "What can I get you today?" At least this Inn doesn't serve much for food. After all, it's more of a bar than a restaurant.

He looks up, almost like he's confused. I want to roll my eyes. If one more person mentions that I'm an American, I think I'm going to lose it.

"Just some chips, thanks," he mutters and he sips on the beer that's in front of him.

"Coming right up," I say, grateful that that's all he had to say.

I put the order up on the window opening with a clothespin and I peek through, noticing that there's no one in there. "Hey, Dulce---"

"I'm a little busy here," she snaps as she's filling up glasses of beer for two women.

"But there's no---"

"I said," she says slowly, like I'm an idiot who didn't get it the first time, "I'm busy."

Someone bursts into the Inn just as I'm about to yell that there isn't a cook, and says, "Sorry I'm late."

"Whatever, Owen," Dulce says. "Just get back there, will you?"

I turn around, curious to see who this Owen guy is. He's got short blonde hair and it's a curly mess on top of his head. He's got these pale blue eyes that look almost transparent. He catches me looking at him and looks at me inquisitively. "Dave found a waitress?" he guesses.

"Yes he did," I answer.

"Good luck with that."

I furrow my brow. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "Waitresses here are like…Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers at Hogwarts."

I just give him a blank stare and he looks at me with shock. "Don't tell me you've never seen Harry Potter," he says. I don't say anything and he goes, "They don't have that in America?"

I roll my eyes. "I just don't like movies that much, all right?"

He puts his hands up. Was my tone that defensive? He stands there, still, and looks at me. It's making me uncomfortable, so I say, "Could you go back there and cook my order, please? I think that guy's going to be getting a little annoyed."

"Whatever you say," he says, a smug smile on his face. He heads back and I hear the fryers turn on.

_Great,_ I think. _I can't stand him already._

----

Uncle David shows up at the end of my shift and gives me the key to the flat. He shows me the stairs, which, of course, are in the kitchen, and then I head up with all my things. Owen didn't say a word.

David was right; it wasn't a nice place. The living room floor was half done and the kitchen floor was completely torn up. A ratty old sofa was in the corner, along with cardboard boxes that I didn't care to peek into.

I accidentally walk into the bathroom and see that Uncle David didn't lie. There's a new-looking shower and toilet sitting in the middle of the room and I'm glad that he wouldn't be going through a bunch of trouble to buy any of that stuff last minute for me.

It's been a long day, I realize when I walk into the bedroom (that was, gratefully, completely finished, just like David promised) and sit on the bed. It's hard to believe all of this happened in one day.

I slip into my pajamas and crawl right into the warm bed. I'm passed out before my head hit's the pillow.


	7. A Date

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! :)

**Chapter Six.**

I wake up the next morning, feeling much better already. The hangover is completely diminished and I just know it's going to be a better day than yesterday.

Or, at least, I think it is, until I stretch and see my watch right in front of my face that reads 11:55 a.m.

"Holy crap," I say, jumping right out of bed. "I almost forgot."

I am not a blind date supporter by any means. Especially not when I'm one of the people that's going on them. I curse myself once again for losing my wallet and quickly put on a pair of jeans and a shirt that doesn't look like I've worn it five hundred times.  
I brush my teeth as fast as possible and brush through the knots in my hair before deciding to just wear it up in a ponytail. I don't particularly care if the taxi driver's nephew doesn't like me at all; that isn't part of the description after all. I just have to go on one date. It won't kill me.

If I hadn't been living right on top of Mitchell's Inn, I never would've made it. But I show up at the front of it at 12:07. I'm impressed with myself.

There are two whole people lingering in front of the Inn: an old man with a trench coat and who looks homeless (no way he's the nephew) and a fourteen-year-old punk whose pants are basically at his knees (God, I hope he's not the nephew). I notice a bench and sit down, tapping my fingers on my thigh.

Five minutes later, I hear a creak from the other side of the bench and from the corner of my eye, I know who it is.

"You've got to be kidding me," I whisper under my breath. _What is he doing here?_

"Oh, hello," Owen says, chipper. "What brings you out here?"

I don't look at him when I speak. "Some wicked bad luck."

"Is my company that awful?" He tries to sound hurt, but I can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"Well, now that you mention it," I say, now facing him, "you _are_ kind of annoying."

He continues acting hurt. "You hardly know me and yet you appear to absolutely _loathe_ me already. Why is that?"

"You're a blonde," I say. "I can't stand blondes."

"And if I were to dye my hair…black? Could you tolerate me then?"

I pretend to consider it. "Nope," I decide. "You'd still be a blonde, just in disguise."

"Fair enough," he says. "But, could you help me out, just this once?"

I shrug. "I guess so."

"Y'see, I was told that I was supposed to me a girl here at noon, and I was wondering if you saw any girls waiting here?"

_Oh, come _on. "A date?" I ask casually.

He nods. "A set-up courtesies of my uncle. Have you seen anyone here?" I nod. He asks, "Where?"

"I think you're staring at her," I say.

----

Owen and I wander aimlessly, asking the typical Get To Know You questions. Favorite color, where were you born, et cetera. I find that I have more in common than I thought with him, which secretly scares me, but I don't let that show. "Full name," I ask.

"Owen James Price," he recites. "And yours is…?"

"Lucy Wright," I answer. "No middle name."

"Why not?"

I shrug. "Parents thought they were overrated, I guess."

"Wait a second." His voice has that Eureka tone to it. "Your grandfather was Jack Wright, wasn't he?"

"Apparently so," I say, not going into anymore detail. I can see on Owen's face that he takes it as a hint that I don't particularly want to talk about it, and so he asks more questions.

"How come I've never seen you around till now?"

"Because I didn't know my grandfather or any other members of my family existed until yesterday morning."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Why is that exactly?"

I start laughing under my breath. "You're really nosey, you know that?"

He shrugs. "I have no real life at the moment. And you've just discovered a hidden family. Forgive me for being overly curious."

"I forgive you for now," I say, "but I can't answer that question because I don't know myself."

"Oh," is all he says in response.

"Yeah, well, enough about that. What about you?"

"Well, I will tell you right now that I do not have a hidden family."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so quick to say that," I tell him. "You never really know."

He nods his head. "I suppose you're right. I'll go through my mum and dad's things tonight to double check."

I look up at him and see a playful smile on his face. I notice he's got two dime-sized dimples on both of his cheeks. I'll admit it; Owen is definitely not hard to stare at. And during our wandering, I've learned that he's not that bad of a guy. I find myself becoming more drawn to him the longer I'm with him.

I don't like that either.

"So, do you do anything else besides cook at the Inn?" I ask randomly.

"I used to," he says vaguely. "Right now though, I'm working on starting a band."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really?" He doesn't look like a guy in a band to me, but I guess that just goes back to that saying, "Never judge a book by its cover".

He nods. "You sound incredulous" His smiles still there. "You know, I've been in…three bands my whole entire life. Four, if you count the one I've got on Rockband."

"Wow," I say. "I've never been on a date with a guy whose been in a band before, let alone three."

He smiles. "There's a first for everything, eh?"

I nod. "Guess so."

His cell phone rings and he gives me an apologetic look when he sees the caller ID. I nod to let him know that it's okay, and he wanders away, phone pressed to his ear.

I notice just how beautiful it is outside today, the sky the perfect shade of blue and the sun shining brightly and I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes. I love the outdoors.

When I open my eyes, I have this feeling that someone's staring at me. I make a 360 turn around and see no one anywhere.

Owen comes back and gives me a small smile, but I can tell it's forced. "Something wrong?"

He shakes his head. "It's okay," he assures me. "Just some family bullocks."

I nod my head knowingly. "I gotcha."

"So, I should really be going," he says. "I'll make sure my uncle knows you paid your due."

"Okay," I say, suddenly wishing he wasn't going to leave. "See you around, then."

"Yeah," he said. "Definitely." He gives me a quick kiss on the forehead and tells me goodbye. Then, I'm stuck on the sidewalk, watching a guy I barely know walk away from me.

I start to feel alone, till I swear there's eyes on me again. I look all around again and see no one staring at me.

_Paranoid much?_ I think as I make my way back to my flat.


	8. An Old Friend

**Chapter Seven.**

I get into my bedroom after a shift at the Inn and I had managed to dump loads of French-fries---er, I mean, crisps---on unsuspecting costumers, myself, and the floor. I hear a weird buzzing coming from near my bed. I remember that I have my phone on vibrate on the end table and I leap for it.

"Hello?" I say, not even checking the caller ID.

"Well, hello, Lucy Lou Who," the familiar voice says.

I roll my eyes. "Hey, Remy," I say. "How's the U.S.?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," she says. "Adam's still trying to get me to go out with him, Luke still asks about you, and I've just gotten off a flight to London as we speak."

"What?" I say, smiling from excitement. A familiar face would be nice to see right now.

"I said, Adam wants---"

"No, not that." Remy loves playing this game.

"You mean the thing about Luke?"

"London, Remy," I say.

I hear her take in a breath. "Oh! _That!_ Yeah. I'm here."

"That's great," I say. "But why?"

"Well, jeez, Lucy, don't sound so happy," she says sarcastically.

"Oh, you know what I mean."

I hear a woman over an intercom say something flatly. "Well, actually, my birthday was coming up and my dad decided that he'd get me tickets to London." This doesn't come as a surprise. Remy's parents are completely loaded. "And I thought, what with you being my friend and all, that you'd like to know."

"Awesome," I say. "But, you know, I can't pick you up from the airport. I lost my wallet and I can't afford to pay for another taxi drive with a date." Which just reminds me that I didn't see Owen today at work. I can't help but wonder if it has to do with our date yesterday.

"Wait, you paid for a taxi with a date?"

"Yeah." There's a pause. "It wasn't a date with the taxi driver, Remy. It was his nephew."

I hear her breathe in relief. "Thank God," she says. "So…was his nephew cute?"

I roll my eyes. "Shallow much, Remy?" I keep my tone light so she knows I'm kidding.

"Is he a blonde? I bet he's a blonde."

Damn, she's good. "Are you psychic?"

I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, "Maybe." I hear her clear her throat. "And I don't care that you don't have any money. You're getting your ass over here and we can ride a taxi together. My treat."

"I really don't want to take your money, Remy."

"I really don't care that you don't," Remy replies. "Now, get your ass in a taxi and driver over here right now. London National Airport."

I sigh. "If you insist," I say, giving in.

----

Remy is at the front of the airport, her hot pink luggage surrounding her. She's got her pink plaid coat on, and I think I see a Hello Kitty necklace around her neck.

"My God," I tell her when I get out of the taxi and help her with her things. "Pink's the color of the month, huh?"

She shrugs. "The color is very flattering on me."

"You know how you're always saying no one takes you seriously because you're a blonde?" I say, heading into the taxi.

"Yeah." She pulls out her cell phone, texting someone.

"Well, maybe if you didn't look like you just walked out of the beginning of Legally Blonde, before they took_ her _seriously, I suggest you put some extra colors in there."

She shrugs. "Whatever. Let them judge the book by its cover. If they don't want to know me because they think I'm stupid, then fine. I don't want to know them, either."

"Good point, Remy," I say, "but what about the sake of _me?"_

She rolls her eyes and takes off her coat, revealing a plain white t-shirt. "Better?"

I nod. "Much."

"So, what have you been up to?"

I act nonchalant. "Oh, you know, the same old shenanigans. I got wasted the first night here, had a one night stand with a guy I can't remember the name of, find a letter my dad hid in my suitcase saying that I have family right here in London, and I'm working as a waitress so I can have some sort of money after losing my wallet."

Remy blinks and the first thing she says to me is, "Someone let you be a waitress?"

I laugh. "_That's_ what you have to comment on, Remy?"

There's a small silence before she asks, "Was the guy hot?"

"No idea," I say. "I didn't see his face. His back looked nice though," I admit with a sly smile.

Remy laughs at me and says, "So, you have a family out there huh?"

"I'm _working_ for that family, actually."

"Oh, now it makes sense," she says. "You got to waitress because of your connections with the boss."

"Ha ha," I say sarcastically.

"Wait, so since you lost your wallet and I'm guessing didn't pay for your hotel in advance, you're sleeping on the streets?"

I shake my head. "My uncle saved my ass there, too."

"Huh. Guess you got lucky, in a sense." She smiles at me. "In more ways than one." She nudges me with her elbow and winks.

"Shut up," I say, embarrassed. "It was a stupid mistake and I'm never going to see…" I trail off, trying to remember his name. "I'm never going to see that guy again."

Remy goes, "Ah ah ah, dear Lucy. Never say never."

----

"What a hell hole," is the first thing that Remy says when she steps into my flat.

"I know it's a little…"

"Shitty?" she finishes for me. "I think I just got tetanus."

I roll my eyes. "You are the biggest drama queen I know." I think about that for a second, and realize that's not true. "Well, you're the second biggest anyway. My cousin Dulce is the first."

"Dulce," she repeats. "Doesn't that name mean 'sweet'?" Remy's an expert on name meanings. She used to read those books all the time when she was younger, completely fascinated.

I shrug. "Dunno, but that's the last word I'd use to describe her. So, I'm guessing you're not into a sleepover tonight?"

She raises her eyebrows and curls her nose at the surroundings. "I don't love you that much, kiddo."

"The bedroom's finished," I tell her.

"And the bathroom?"

I do a sideways nod. "It's being worked on. The shower's supposed to work, but…my uncle isn't exactly an expert plumber."

"Yeah, no, you just haven't sold me," she says. "Sorry."

"That's all right. I think I'll recover."

She yawns. "I'm going to head over to a hotel," she states. "If you want, you can hang out with me there?"

"Can't," I say. "I have someone I have to meet tomorrow."

She smiles, curious. "That blonde guy?"

I shake my head. "My grandmother."

"Ah," she says knowingly. "Well, I'll call you tomorrow night. We can go out drinking or something." I give her a look. "What? I'll make sure you don't get too drunk and sleep with a hot stranger, okay?"

"We don't know that the stranger was hot," I remind her. "In fact, he could've looked like a troll."

She's shaking her head before the sentence is even out of my mouth. "But you'd never sleep with someone who looked like a troll. Not even when you're drunk."

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that he looks like that. Besides, would a troll have a hot back?"

I just give up, knowing this conversation is going nowhere. "Whatever you say, Remy. He's probably the most gorgeous man in the world."

"That's the spirit," she says and she smiles. "Talk to you later."

"Bye," I say and she's out the door.

----

When four a.m. rolls around, I start to wonder if I'll ever get to sleep. My head is racing, wondering about my grandmother, if I should tell her anything, and then it drifts off into the one night stand guy and I try and figure out his name. My mind even thinks about Owen for a few seconds. I try and tell my brain to just shut up and shut off.

Then, around five thirty, it finally does. But around eight o'clock, I hear a bang coming from somewhere in the flat and I pull myself up and out of bed groggily, slightly aggravated.

I figure out it's coming from the bathroom and I peek inside.

"Well, hell," I say, feeling a lot more awake suddenly. "My uncle's conned you into doing this?"

Owen looks up, his hair sticking to his face, and he smiles at me. But it's one like he's trying to hide the fact that he's laughing. Why would he---?

"Oh, God." I look down at my outfit. Last night was so hot that I just wore my little boy shorts that say "Kiss my buns" and the t-shirt Remy got me for my birthday two years ago as a joke (it's Hello Kitty). I feel myself turning red and I back myself out of the bathroom to throw on some pants.

Why am I so awkward?

I come back in and act like nothing happened. He's tinkering around with the shower, and I wonder if he's actually doing anything or just pretending he is.

"David paying you for this?" I ask.

"Nope," he replies. "But I'm helping him renovate this place. I get half the rent profits when it's done."

"Huh," is all I can say.

"Listen," he says, halting his work, "I don't want things to be awkward between us after that date thing."

"That date thing," I repeat slowly, and my eyebrows crunched together.

"I know you're not really all that fond of me, and that's fine."

"Not really all that fond of you," I echo, the same expression on my face.

"And since we have to work together, it's best that we are probably friends anyway. Right?"

"Friends…"

"Yeah."

"Yeah…"

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say?"

"Sorry. I'm a little tired still. I'll have my own brain once nine o'clock comes around."

"But do you agree?" he asks.

I don't know what to say. On the one hand, a part of me wants to give him a shot. Why not? What could it hurt. Then, there's another side that's telling me to say, "We should absolutely stay friends!"

"Um, sure," I agree halfheartedly. "Friends."

He gives me a meek smile. "All right then." Then, he turns back to his work, I mutter a goodbye, and I head back into my bedroom.

I hope I didn't just pass up something incredible.

----

I show up at my grandmother's at nine thirty, sick of hearing the banging and clanging of Owen's handy work. I get lucky and don't have to buzz in---which I know would just result in some nervous stuttering on my part---and I in through a small opening left from a flower delivery guy.

My grandmother answers after two knocks and looks at me with surprise. "Hello, Lucy," she says. "You're up quite early."

"I'm sorry," I say. "Am I too early? I can come back later---"

Her laugh interrupts me. "Don't be ridiculous, dear. Come on in." I step in and she tells me to take a seat at the kitchen table. I sit where I did last time and she's pouring me a cup of tea before I can protest.

I sip on it politely, suppressing gags. I can't stand tea.

I feel like she's studying me, the way she stares at me, and I feel self conscience. Did I have something on my face?

A few minutes pass and she breaks the silence with a question. "When are you planning on telling me?" Her tone is casual.

I put down my cup. "Telling you what?"

"What else, love?" she says. "When are you going to tell me you're my granddaughter?"


	9. A Surprise

**Chapter Eight.  
**  
My jaw would've dropped to the floor, if it was possible. "Did David tell you?" I ask. This has to be the only solution.

She shakes her head. "I didn't know David knew."

"Then how…?"

She smiles. "Dear, I'm not completely daft. I've met your mum; you look almost exactly like her."

"I do?" I had only seen a couple of pictures of my mom and I never saw a resemblance.

She nods. "And you have your great grandmother's eyes, too. The moment you said your name was Lucy, I knew it was more than a coincidence." I'm named after my great grandmother? "_And _I know for a fact that the only women who live in this flat old enough to have grandchildren, don't have children themselves."

"Oh." That's all I can come up with.

"Why didn't you tell me the first time?"

I shrug. "I guess…I was afraid," I admit.

She nods. "I understand," she says. "So, how did you find out about me?" I tell her about David's letter and I practically recite it word for word. "Should've known he'd already know," she says.

"Why?"

"Your dad and him were always closer with each other when they were kids than they were with anyone else. I always found it peculiar, considering the age difference…but everyone has to have someone to confide in, now don't they?"

I just nod and ask, "What does David mean when he says the family's had 'blowouts'?"

My grandmother hesitates. "Maybe this is something you should talk to your dad about."

I sigh. "My dad didn't even tell me about you guys in person. I'd ask him and find it on a Post-It note three weeks later."

"Yes, your dad really wasn't very good with opening up and explaining a situation," she says, "but I don't recall him being _that_ awful about it."

"People can change," I say, surprised at how sad my voice sounds.

I see my grandmother, her eyes looking just as sad. "Yes, that is very true," she agrees.

"So…what_ can _you tell me about this---I mean, our---family?"

She smiles. "Thought you'd never ask."

----

Turns out, my grandmother met my grandfather when he was in World War II and they got married a few years after it ended. My dad was the oldest, followed by Andrew, and then of course, David.

My grandfather had run the Mitchell's Inn with an old war friend---Mitchell Williams---and were rolling in money before they knew it. Then in the seventies Mitchell blew their money by gambling his away, and my grandfather feeling awful for him, gave him a loan that he never paid back. He died of alcohol poisoning in the eighties.

My grandmother says that my mother was in London because she was an artist. She had even given her a sketch of my dad (which is standing on an end table in her room now) but she never showed my grandfather. He didn't like my mother---or really, he didn't like her career choice.

She says that's all she knows for sure, that I really need to get my dad's side if I want to know more. But I don't want to talk to my dad. I'm still mad at him for this whole thing in the first place.

Later, around noon, I know it's time for me to go. My phone keeps buzzing in my pocket and it's getting annoying. I know it's Remy; she has no patience or sense of how much time has actually passed.

"Thanks so much," I tell my grandmother as I give her a quick hug.

We pull apart and she smiles. "No problem, love."

Just as I'm about out the door, I hear my grandmother say, "And from now on, you can call me Gran."

I turn around and smile. _Gran._ I like the sound of that.

----

When I come back, I hear yelling coming from---where else?---the bathroom. I hope that it's just my uncle and Owen and not some freaks that got into my flat. But the closer I get, the more I hear, and the more I hear, the more I realize that it's a girl. Owen's fighting with some girl in my bathroom?

I put my back against the wall and listen closely. The walls are so thin, it's easy to eavesdrop.

"I'm sorry, Lena," Owen says, his voice strained. "Okay?"

"No, it is _not," _she says. "This will _never_ be okay."

I feel like I'm listening to some soap opera. If I had a microwave, I'd totally make popcorn.

I hear Owen let out a big breath out of frustration. "Please, just go. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression---"

"The wrong impression?" she spats at him. "You told me that you loved me."

Damn, this is getting juicy. _Maybe there's a bag of Fritos still lying around that I can replace my popcorn with…_

"No, I didn't," Owen clarifies. "I said that I _could _love you, if you weren't so…"

"So, what?" I eagerly await the answer myself.

"Clingy," he finishes. "I need space, okay?"

I wonder then, if she was the one that called him on our "date" the other day. Owen appears to be a liar…Maybe I had dodged a bullet by staying friends with him after all.

"Funny," she says, her tone acidic, "that was the _last _thing you wanted two weeks ago."

_Ooh, burn,_ I think. Maybe I should watch some daytime soaps after all---

The floor creaks underneath me and everything seems to fall silent. I gulp and hope that no one peeks their head out here to see if---

"And who might_ this _be?"

_Thank you ever so much, Remote Controller,_ I think to no one. _Guess you enjoy soaps, too._

----

"Seriously, Owen?"

"It's not---" I try and say, but she cuts me off.

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that?" she snaps. I try my best to hold back my anger, but quite frankly, this girl is already getting on my nerves.

She turns her body towards Owen and says, "Why her?" Her voice is whiny. "She's not even pretty."

"Hey!" I say, completely offended. "What the hell? I'm just an innocent bystander here!"

She rolls her beady little eyes at me. "Whatever, you tart."

"Hey," Owen's tone is warning her. "Leave Lucy out of this."

I only notice then that her nose is crooked and she has eyebrows that almost look like black caterpillars over her eyes. And this girl had the nerve to call _me_ ugly?

"Owen," she says, "can you honestly say that this girl means nothing to you?"

He looks over at me, almost like he's expecting me to tell him what to say. I shrug my shoulders at him and give him a Hey-it's-your-mess-deal-with-it-yourself look. He purses his lips before Lena says, "Fuck it. Your silence says it all."

He opens his mouth, probably to say that she got it wrong, but he snaps it shut. She pushes past me, whacking my shoulder with hers before she slams my door.

"Well, she's a keeper," I tell him. "Can I ask why she was here?"

He scratches his chin. "Um, well…" He trails off and purses his lips together.

"Oh, God," I say, "please tell me that you weren't planning on screwing around in my bed." The thought of that girl anywhere near my bed makes me feel sick.

"No!" Owen says.

I breathe out in relief. "So, then how come she came here?"

"Because we _used _to screw around in that bed," he says.

I give him a look of horror and involuntarily shiver. "I need to burn my bed."

"What?" he says. "She's not that bad…in bed."

I want to smack him on the head. "You kept her around for _that?"_

He shrugs. "I'm not that shallow."

"Keeping someone around just for the sex, regardless of their personalities or looks, sounds pretty shallow to me."

"If you say so," he says.

"Are you almost done with that shower?" I ask, desperate to change the subject suddenly. It's just another one of my gut urges, and even though it didn't end well last time, I still listen.

"Almost," he says. "I would've been done with it if Lena hadn't shown up."

"Well, hurry up," I say, but I keep my tone light. "I'm starting to smell."

He nods his head. "I know. I could smell you before you walked in." He smiles playfully at me.

"Oh, shut up," I say. "I'll be reading in my room, sitting on the desk chair, if you for some reason need my plumbing expertise."

"Do you even know anything about plumbing?"

I shrug. "I know it usually involves an old fat guy showing his crack," I tell him.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay. I'll be done soon."

I nod, turn on my heel, and head for my room. As I reach for the handle, I hear Owen say under his breath, "Lena's wrong. You're absolutely lovely, Lucy." I turn around, my cheeks probably pink, but he's already gone.

----

"Jeez, Lucy," Remy says, "took you long enough to call me back."

I roll my eyes. "Sorry, Remy. I kind of had to work tonight."

"Argh, I hate the fact that you're _responsible." _She says the word like it's a disease. "But make sure you get Thursday night off, okay?"

"Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"Because you have plans with me, that's why."

"What kind of plans?"

She sighs, sounding exasperated. "Why does it matter?"

"I'd just like to know if I'm going to wind up in jail, so I can wear my comfy shoes."

"Har. Dee. Har."

"Just tell me," I press. I can picture her rolling her eyes at me.

"Not a chance. It's a surprise."

Now, I can hear the smile on her face. That worries me. "Oh, Remy, what are you planning?"

"Don't worry, Lucy," she says. "Just trust me."

And, like an idiot, I do.


	10. A Concert

**Chapter Nine.**

Thursday night rolls around, and I'm shaking. Remy and her surprises are one of the few things that scare the crap out of me. In the beginning, you're thinking, "Okay, this isn't so bad," but then, as the night goes on, things get worse and worse.

She shows up at my door at six thirty, wearing nothing but pink and white. I must give her a look because she says, "Hey, you said add another color to it, and I did."

"Whatever," I say, stepping out of her way. She comes in and her nose still curls up when she looks at the flat. "The bathroom works now," I mention to her.

"Hmm," is all she says. She's obviously still not impressed with my living arrangements, but I've learned to really like this place. It has character.

"Are you ready?" she asks. "It starts at seven."

"What is this 'it' you're referring to exactly?" I ask.  
She smiles deviously at me. "You'll see. Now, hurry up. I've got a taxi waiting."

I give up easily, knowing full well that she really isn't planning on saying a word. I grab my purse and we're out the door and in the taxi.

Remy says an address to the taxi driver who nods and says, "My daughter's going there tonight as well."

"Going where?" I ask him and Remy casts me a dirty glare.

"Nowhere," she says quickly. The driver looks confused, but doesn't answer my question. I cross my arms and look out the window for the rest of the ride.

----

"What is this place?"

"Don't know," Remy replies as she gives the driver money. "Some sort of stadium or something?"

We step out of the taxi and I let Remy take the lead. She hands me something and I realize it's a ticket. "McFly?" I say the unfamiliar word out loud. "What is this? A Back to the Future reunion or something?"

"It's a band," she says. "I felt like going to a concert while I was here and they're the only band that's playing."

"Wait," I say and I grab her arm. Teenage girls push past us with posters that say things like, "I Heart McFly" to "Dougie, show me your Poynter."

Remy looks at me impatiently. "What?"

"Have you even heard of this band?"

"No."

I roll my eyes. "Then how do you know they don't suck?"

She shrugs. "I don't. But the girls I asked about the band said that they were hot, so at least we have eye candy to look at while our ears our bleeding if they do."

I roll my eyes at her again for the shallowness of that statement, but if they are as hot as those girls said, I will admit that it would be a definite plus.

Shallowness is contagious.

----

Remy has managed to score front row seats to a band that she's not even a fan of. I am truly amazed, but not completely surprised. Remy has pretty good luck. She'll probably get pulled up onto the stage tonight, too, and wind up making out with one of the band members.

Girls are already screaming and the whole place is so loud that I can barely hear myself think, which is really a good thing right now. Thinking is the last thing I want to do right now.

"Have you seen some of these posters?" Remy yells.

"Yeah!" I scream back. "Are you sure we're not at some sort of porn star convention?"

She laughs at me and the lights go off. The screaming rises and some fancy light show starts up. Building up suspense, I suppose.

I can't see anything, but I can hear drums now. Then at the same time the guitar starts, the lights come up. There's a blonde on both ends and a brunette with his back turned, playing the guitar. I scrunch my eyebrows together.

"That blonde guitarist seems familiar…" I say under my breath. I rack my brain trying to figure it out.

"Huh?!" Remy yells.

"I said the blonde seems familiar!"

"Yeah, you're right! He is hot!"

I don't bother trying to correct her. I'm too busy trying to make my brain click. I get a better look at the drummer; he seems familiar too. _I must've seen them on a poster or something…_ I decide. Or, at least, I had decided until I saw the brunette turn around. A light bulb turns on in my head and I remember.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," I say at the same time his eyes meet mine. His expression says the same thing I said out loud and I avert my eyes. _Way to go, Lucy,_ I tell myself silently. _You slept with a famous British rock star._

----

Twenty minutes into the concert and Remy's dancing along and smiling from ear-to-ear. I, on the other hand, am trying to remember why I let myself go here. I look up every so often, but look down at my feet, afraid to make eye contact with him. I find it weird how I recognize all of their faces (with the exception of the bass player; he must've not been there that night) and yet I can't remember that guy's name or anything that happened.

I want to tell Remy, to say that I'd like to get out of here now to spare anymore awkward eye contact, but I bite my tongue. Something in my gut tells me not to. I curse it, but listen anyway.

I'll admit that their music isn't ear-bleeding inducing and they are all definitely not hard to look at, but all part of me wants to do is go. The other part, won't let me move my feet from where I'm standing.

One of the singers, the blonde one, goes off on a tangent. The bass player walks around pointlessly and the drummer scratches his back with a drumstick. My one night stand jumps off the stage and starts to give the girls at the far right high fives and chats with them for a few seconds. I pray like hell that the blonde stops rambling and calls him up to the stage.

But, of course, that would be boring, wouldn't it?

One Night Stand, as I affectionately call him, comes up and gives Remy a polite smile and a hello. Remy gives him a very warm hello back and when he walks over to me, I see her check out his butt.

"You look familiar," he says, and the voice brings me back to Sam's Pub all over again, before I got completely wasted. "Lucy?" I notice his hair is curly now.

Remy looks at me and tilts her head. "You know this guy?" she whispers in my ear.

I whisper back, "I'd hardly say I know him."

"Paging Danny Jones to the stage," I hear the blonde say into his microphone. I breathe out in relief.

He gives me a quick smile and says, "Can I talk to you after?"

"Danny, Danny, Danny," the bassist sings. "Stop chatting up the pretty girls and get your bum up here!"

"Say yes!" Remy hisses as she elbows me.

"Uh, sure." He smiles again and I recognize it from that night. Charming and mischievous, always a dangerous combination. He jumps back onto the stage and they start playing another song.

"Is he…?"

"Yeah," I answer, knowing what the question is. "He is."

----

When the concert ends, a security guard comes up to me and says, "Danny would like to meet you backstage."

I look over at Remy and tell the guard, "Only if my friend comes, too."

He nods and motions for me to follow him. I do and we're led into the backstage area. There must only be about a dozen fans around and they're all posing for pictures with the guys eagerly or getting them to sign CD's or body parts. Danny---it's great to finally at least know his name---spots me, smiles, and quickly signs the fan's CD. He gives a motion to one of the guys and then heads over to me. "Hello," he tells me.

"Hi," I say quietly, feeling uncomfortable.

Remy looks back and forth at us both before she says, "I'm going to go…get my boobs signed or something," and she heads off to the rest of the band.

"Follow me," he says suddenly, grabbing my arm. He leads me into a dressing room that smells like sweaty guys and beer.

"It's good to see you again," he tells me, that grin of his still going.

"Uh, yeah," I say uncertainly. "It's good to remember your name."

He laughs. "Yeah, I wasn't sure if you'd even recognize me," he admits. "You _were_ pretty plastered."

I feel embarrassed. "I'm sorry for anything I did that you remember," I say. "I probably made an ass out of myself."

"Nah," he says. "That's my job, anyway."

There's a knock on the door just when I'm about to ask him what happened that night and the bassist peeks his head through the door. "No one's doing anything in here, are they?"

I see Danny roll his eyes. "No, Dougie."

"Well then get out here. The girls are waiting."

Danny gives me an apologetic smile. "Maybe we could get together again sometime," he suggests. "When we're both sober," he adds.

I smile. "Yeah, maybe," I say, though I know the possibilities of that actually happening are slim to none.

Danny opens his mouth to say something, but Dougie interrupts. "C'mon, Danny."

He leaves and I stay in the dressing room for a little bit longer, trying to get a handle on all of this, but the truth is, there isn't much to grasp. I still don't know what happened that night.

Guess I'll never know.


	11. A Wallet

**Chapter Ten.  
**  
**Danny**  
_That night…_

I'm sitting in Sam's Pub, drinking a beer with Harry and Tom (who is being forced to take Dougie's place tonight since Dougie's ill) and the regulars are exactly where they always are. Charlotte keeps licking her lips at us and Anna and Steph keep smiling over at Harry, who gives them a smile, just to be nice.

"Mate," Tom says, leaning towards Harry and me, "do those women _always _do that?"

"You mean undress us with their eyes?" Harry says. Tom nods. "Yes, actually."

"You'd already known that if you didn't ditch us every night we've gone out this week," I tell him. Tom just shrugs.

"Someone has to be responsible and keep the band going," he tells me. "If we all got drunk every night, we'd all be passed out and we'd never finish an album. Then, there'd be no band." Tom's in a bad mood today, but he won't tell us why.

Harry rolls his eyes. "I love how you look at the positive side."

I hear the door open and I turn my head to see who it could be; we don't get many newcomers around here.

A girl with long brown hair walks in and I notice how she trips over a raised floorboard, but just keeps going. I smile. She sits up at the bar, looking anxious.

"Hey, look at that bird," Harry says. "She's never been here before."

"No," I say. "I think I'm going to go talk to her."

Tom rolls his eyes. "Of course you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He sighs. "You're always chatting up the pretty girls." He almost sounds like he's jealous. "Why don't you give one of us a fighting chance?"

I pat him on the shoulder as I get out of my seat. "Sorry, mate. You can get the next one, okay?"

"Whatever," he mutters. "Get me a beer while you're up there, will you?"

"Me, too," Harry chimes in. I give them a nod and stand right next to the girl. She doesn't even turn her head. Weird.

"Hey, Sam!" I yell. "I need two more!" I see her flinch a little. Maybe I yelled a little too loud…

As Sam's filling the glasses, I tell her, "Don't mind Sam. He doesn't say much these days after Chloe left." Chloe was Sam's girlfriend for the past three years, until she left him for some guy twice her age. Sam hasn't been the same since.

She nods absently and turns her head away from me, sipping her beer. Normally, a girl would be giving me all her attention and the fact that she's ignoring me makes me fumble and say stupid things.

"He hasn't smiled since she's gone," I ramble. She still doesn't look at me. "It's really quite sad. He's a good guy, but he lets things eat at him."

Sam comes up with the beers, looking annoyed. "I can hear you, you know." He slides the glasses over to me and some of it spills on my hands. I wipe it on my jeans as Sam continues. "And I'd really appreciate you not talking about me to strangers who probably could care less."

I shrug casually. "Someone needs to explain your behavior."

"You just couldn't think of a decent chat up line, so you used me as an excuse to talk to this girl," Sam says. "But really all you're doing is boring her to death."

I pretend to be insulted, just in case she'll find that cute. "Why, I never---"

"Shut it," Sam says and then he walks away to clean Oliver's table.

I can see the girl is checking me out from the corner of her eye now and I say, "Sorry," hoping she'll turn her head.

She does and I notice just then how stunning this girl really is. "About what?" she says, and I'm taken aback by the American accent. "Sam, your story, or the fact that you're still standing here?"

I look at her for a second, still a little surprised, but then I smile and I can see her fighting to smile back. "Ah, an American. That explains it then."

She raises her eyebrows at me, confused. "Explains what?"

"Well y'see, there are the same people that come here every night," I make up on the spot. It's not a lie, really, but I'm not telling her the whole reason for why it makes sense. She didn't care to pay any attention to me because she doesn't know I'm in a band. She'll like me---or not---for who I am, not what I do. I feel bad about not mentioning it, but I'll just tell her later, when she decides if she likes me or not. "And you, I did not recognize." I point at where Oliver sits. "That's Oliver's spot right there"---I point to the group of women---"and that's where Steph, Anna, and Charlotte always are"---I bring my body towards my own table---"and that spot right there is where me and my mates sit every night."

I see Tom point at me and then at the drinks in my hand. "Oh. Right." I forgot about those. "Well, I'd better be going then. If you need to know anything, just come over. We don't bite."

"Thanks," she tells me as she takes a drink. "But I think I'll be fine."

I smile at her and say, "Sure," before I walk back to our table. Tom grabs his beer and says, "It's about time."

"Did you work your charm?" Harry asks as he grabs his beer.

"It will," I answer, looking over at her. "Just give me a couple of minutes to figure out my game plan."

A few minutes later, I'm walking back over to where she is and I take a seat right next to her. I see her roll her eyes and I say, "You look lonely. No one should ever drink alone."

She rolls her eyes again. "What are you doing?"

"All right, so maybe Sam had it right," I admit. "I'm sort of trying to…" I trail off, but she finishes it for me.

"Chat me up?"

"Yeah." I pause. "Working?"

She shrugs. "Buy me another drink and maybe it will."

I smile and say, "Danny," as I stick my hand out.

"Lucy," she tells me, not taking my hand, but giving me a smile, "and I'll have a lager."

----

Three hours, five shots, and four beers later, Lucy and I are running through London, tripping over our own feet and laughing loudly at nothing. Lucy is completely pissed right now, and I'm about two beers away from being right up there with her.

"Hey," she says enthusiastically, "let's break into this park." She grins at me and I laugh.

"Break into a park? Why?"

"Because it'll be fun, that's why," se replies and she starts to climb over the fence. She falls and then brushes the dirt off herself. "Give me a boost," she commands and I do. She tumbles over to the other side and says, "Come on!"

I jump the fence and land on my ass, but it doesn't hurt. I get right back up and Lucy's far ahead of me, wandering without much purpose.

"It's a full moon," she mentions and the she hiccups. "Weird things always happen on full moons."

I nod my head. "What's the weirdest thing you've done on a full moon?"

"This," she replies. "One billion percent, this." Her eyes wander and then she spots something that makes her face light up. "Look, a pond!"

She runs over to the pond, losing her balance a little bit along the way, and I follow a little more cautiously. She's walking right around the edge and I'm picturing her right now just falling right in.

"Wonder if this water's warm," she murmurs almost incoherently as she takes off her shoes to stick one of them in. She takes her foot back a second later and goes, "Nope." She starts to laugh and I laugh along with her, just because.

She's trying to put her shoes back on now, but she's so close to the water and she's so clumsy that she just falls right in, back first. She screams and then says, "Holy crap, that's cold!" She laughs again.

"You are such a nutter!" I yell at her, smiling.

"Come on in and be one with me!" she yells back, smiling too.

I take off my shoes and shirt without a second thought and I jump right in. Lucy's right; the water is freezing. "Holy---!" I yell before Lucy interrupts me with a slurred, "Shush!"

"What? Wh---?"

_"Shush!" _Then she whispers, "I hear something."

We stay still in the water (that doesn't even go up to my shoulders) and listen as carefully as possible. Then, Lucy starts to laugh again and she's saying, "I'm sorry," in between her laughing attack.

"Oi!" a voice calls from the darkness. "Who's there?"

"Shit!" I say and Lucy's still laughing. I grab her hand and help her make her way through the water the best I can. I grab my shirt and both of our shoes and we make a break for it.

I pretty much toss her over the fence and then throw myself over. We run a little farther and when we stop, I breathe out in relief as I start laughing as hysterically as Lucy. We didn't get caught.

----

We stumble around in the dark of my place and we keep as quiet as possible so we don't wake anyone up. I'm freezing but Lucy says that she's fine. Still, I want her to get some dry clothes on, just in case.

_Man, _I think, _maybe I should've had more to drink. I'm bringing a girl back to my house and all I can think of is the fact that she might get pneumonia. _

We make our way into my room and the first thing she does is strip off all her clothes. I look away at first, but can't help but sneak a peek.

What? I'm a nice guy, but I'm no monk.

He wraps herself up in a sheet like it's some sort of cocoon and then she flops herself onto my bed. I just stand there, not sure what to do, and then she says, "Are you coming or what?"

I take off my shirt and my pants and then I switch into a pair of dry boxers, crawling into my side of the bed. "Don't you want some clothes?" I ask her.

"Mm," she replies, turning her back away from me.

"Okay then," I say.

"Danny?" she says drowsily a few minutes later.

"Hmm?"

She turns over to face me. "You're really, really, great," she slurs. "Thanks."

I smile. "Don't mention it."

She gives me a quick kiss on the forehead and then turns herself over. I hear her snoring a minute later.

Then, I give into my own exhaustion.

----

When I wake up, I see that Lucy and any traces of her being here, are gone. I rub my forehead and stumble out of bed, heading for the aspirin. If I have a killer hangover, I can only imagine how Lucy's feeling.

I put on some pants and a shirt and on my way out of my room, I step on something that feels cool on my foot. When I look down, I see that it's a wallet.

I guess not all traces of Lucy were gone after all.

I consider what to do with this, but I know there isn't much I can do with it. I'll probably never see her again, but I stick it in my pocket anyway.

_Just in case,_ I tell myself. _You never know._

----

I still can't believe that I've seen Lucy at our concert. I would have said that maybe she figured out who she was on her own, if I hadn't seen the look on her face when she saw me.

I don't know what to say to her, but I know I have to speak to her. There's got to be a reason for why she's shown up here. If I waste that chance, I might as well forget her completely, and I don't _want_ to.

I feel like punching Dougie when he peeks his head into the dressing room; after all, he and Tom sort of ruined any chance I had of speaking to her earlier.

"Fans before fucks, Danny," Dougie reminds me.

"I never did anything with her, Doug," I tell him and he looks at me unconvinced.

"Sure you didn't."

"Mate, why would I lie about _not _getting lucky?"

He pauses for a second and says, "Good point. But still."

I sigh and greet the fans rather halfheartedly and I do feel guilty about it. I keep looking around for Lucy and don't see her. I wonder if she's left---

"Crap," I say. "The wallet!"

I quickly walk away and head towards the dressing room, just in case she's still in there. But I'm too late.

I sigh and sit down for a second, tossing the wallet between my hands absently. I missed her again. _Maybe I'm just not supposed to have anything to do with her_, one side of me says. _Maybe it's for the better._

_Or maybe,_ another side says, _not giving her the wallet now just means that you get to see her again._

I stick the wallet in my pocket for safekeeping. _Just in case._


	12. An Article

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! :D

**Chapter Eleven.  
**

**Lucy  
**  
Seeing Danny has gotten me completely distracted---even though it was almost two weeks ago---and people are starting to notice. Dulce looks at me like I'm incompetent and when Uncle David walks in, he looks at the stains on my apron curiously.

"I tripped," I explain. "A lot."

He just nods, not really caring much. This has been the same thing I've said every day since I got the job, so he takes it pretty casually now. "How's the bathroom holding up in the flat?" he asks.

"Great," I reply. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Just making sure. Owen isn't an expert on that sort of thing."

I just nod at first. "Where is Owen anyway?" I haven't seen him since I've seen Danny and I think he's also part of the reason I've become even more of a fumbling mess.

"He's taken a holiday," Uncle David explains. "He'll be back tomorrow."

I nod casually at the fact again like I don't really care, but deep down inside, I know I'm rejoicing.

----

"I quit," are the first words I hear Owen say when he comes in the next night. I linger around the table I'm cleaning longer than I should to eavesdrop.

Wow, this is really becoming a problem.

"I'm sorry," Dulce says, not amused, "why are you telling _me?"_

"So you can tell David."

She laughs. "Oh, no. _You're _telling him."

"I'm not waiting around all day for him."

"Tough."

He groans and rolls his eyes. "C'mon Dulce. Work with me here?"

Dulce shrugs. "I'm just the bartender. David runs the place." She fills up a glass and passes it to a middle aged man that's giving her the eye. She doesn't even notice. "Can I ask why though?"

Ah, Dulce's curiosity always works to my own advantage. "Ask why…?"

Dulce rolls her eyes. "My God, you're thick," she comments. "Why are you quitting?"

"I've found a new job."

"Oh, have you?" She sounds skeptical.

"Yes, I have," Owen defends. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Hey, no need to get touchy on the subject. I was just asking."

He sighs. "Can I use the phone to call him then?"

Dulce gestures him behind the counter and I wonder what his new job is. I wonder if he's going to still work on my flat and---  
"Lucy," Dulce calls from the other side of the room, "I think you're going to burn a hole in that table."

Oh. "Right," I say, mostly to myself. I move on and take another person's order, then head over to the kitchen. At least we already had the replacement cook for him who actually gets here on time.

Course, he's also no fun to look at…

I want to smack myself over the head. I should stop getting myself all wound up over Owen. Or Danny for that matter.

_Mental forehead smack. _

Why do those two get me so frazzled? I've only seen Danny two whole times and he's got me going nuts. And I don't really know Owen all that well and he makes me nuts too.

When Owen gets off the phone, he looks angry. I wonder if he and David fought?

I watch as he walks out of the Inn, and I can't help but notice that he didn't look at me the whole time he was here. Not even once.

----

"That marker _still _hasn't come off my boobs," Remy complains later that night. I'm hanging out at her hotel room since it's her last night in London and she's grabbing a washcloth and rubbing it against her chest. "Two freakin' weeks and it's still there!"

I roll my eyes. "I didn't think you were serious about them signing your boobs," I tell her.

"I didn't think they seriously signed boobs," she replies, still scrubbing. "And, apparently, with the most permanent ink in the whole world." She sighs. "The only name that won't go away now is Tom's."

"I guess you guys are meant to be together then," I joke.

She looks at me, and in all seriousness says, "Do you think so?"

I've forgotten Remy believes in fate and signs. "Why not," I say halfheartedly.

She smiles. "He was pretty cute…and so was your one night stand guy."

"Danny," I say automatically. I'm not forgetting that guy's name ever again.

She smiles at me. "I think you two are meant to be," she declares.

I roll my eyes. "You know I don't believe in that stuff."

"So? Just because you don't believe in something doesn't mean it's not there. I saw the way he looked at you _and_ I saw the way you looked at him. You can't tell me that there's nothing there, Lucy."

I shrug. "Okay, so he's cute," I confess, "but…I didn't even know his name till two weeks ago, after I slept with him, by the way."

"Oh, I know what this is about," Remy says.

"Do you now?" I have my doubts.

"It's about that Owen guy isn't it?" I don't answer quickly enough and she says, "Oh, my God, Lucy. No. He's not…just, no."

"You just don't like Owen because he isn't in a band," I say. "And you only like Danny because he is in one." It's a well-known fact that Remy has a thing for musicians.

"No, it isn't," she assures me.

"Have you even met Owen?"

"You know, I love how you're not denying that the reason you don't think you and Danny have a chance is because of Owen."

"You know," I imitate, "I love how you're not answering my questions."

She rolls her eyes. "No, okay?"

"That's what I thought."

"I don't need to meet him," she says. "I already know you and Danny are meant to be together forever."

I roll my eyes and make a fake gagging noise at the corniness of her words.

"Danny and Lucy sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G," she sings like she's five. "First comes love, then comes marriage---"

"The Remy shuts her mouth and passes that sandwich," I finish, and she passes me the sandwich I'm pointing at reluctantly.

"You'll see someday, Lucy," Remy says. "You'll see."

----

The next morning, I ride the taxi with Remy to the airport and the ride is completely silent. We're not angry at each other; we're just not morning people.

We say our goodbyes and Remy tells me, "If you see that Tom guy ever again, which you will"---I roll my eyes at her---"make sure you give him my number."

"Whatever you say, Remy," I reply and I give her a hug. "See you next week."

"Oh, yeah," she says, "you're leaving soon, too aren't you?"  
I nod, a little sad. I'm already missing London and I haven't even left.

She gives me a hug and we say another quick, "See ya," then I'm off into the taxi. At least this time I've got some money for the taxi this time.

I head into the Inn and the first thing Dulce says to me is, "Family reunion tonight."

"Huh?" I say stupidly. I'm still not exactly awake.

She sighs. "The Inn's closed tonight. The whole family's getting together. To meet you."

I feel like she's blaming me for this and like I've---once again---ruined her whole entire life. "Great," I say without much enthusiasm.

"Starts at seven," she says.

"Wonderful." I start to head up the stairs and then I realize something that I should've noticed a long time ago. "Hey, Dulce?"

"What?"

"Do you live here or something?" How come I've only just now noticed how peculiar it is that Dulce's always at the Inn.

"I just like to have a break from my house," she mutters. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Hey, I was just curious," I tell her and I head up my stairs and fall into my bed. Is it possible that my jet lag has been delayed by a few weeks?

I fall asleep and when I wake up, it's five thirty. Wow. Maybe I'm getting sick.

I take a shower and put on new clothes and by the time I've done all I can do, it's barely six. I decide to hang out downstairs and wait for everyone to show up, but when I get down there, I see Gran' already there. And David. And a bunch of other people that I've never seen before.

"Dulce," I murmur. "Of course." She wants me to seem like a coward, just like my dad.

Dulce looks a little surprised to see me, but when she does, she just rolls her eyes and walks away.

"Lucy," Gran says. "Just in time!"

All eyes go on me and I gulp. Running actually doesn't sound like a bad idea right now…

"Everyone, this is Jack's daughter," she says. "Lucy."

"Looks like her mum," a man that looks an awful lot like Gran (if she had been a man, of course) whispers to a woman that looks an awful lot like Dulce._ Must be my Uncle Andrew,_ I think. _What's his wife's name again?_

David had given me the list of all the family's members (after I requested it) and I had it mostly memorized. "This is Andrew and his wife Ciara," Gran tells me. I nod and she moves onto David and his wife. "You've already met David, but this is his wife Leah." Leah gives me a small wave and I smile at her in return.

"This is your cousin Kieran," she says, pointing at a man about my age, maybe a little older, who's holding toddler with dark curls, just like his. "And that's his daughter Nadia." She moves over to two girls sitting at a table playing some sort of card game. They can't be much older than twelve and they're completely identical. "These are David's girls," she says. "The one with the ponytail is Tegan and the other one is Evie," she whispers to me so they don't hear. I'm guessing they don't like when people tell someone how to tell them apart.

"So there you are," Gran says. "I think you've met them all."

It seems like nothing too eventful is going to happen after that. Dulce sneers at me randomly and Kieran keeps trying to calm down Nadia. I let Tegan and Evie play with my hair and ask me random questions about what it's like in America.

"Hey, Lucy?" Tegan asks timidly.

"Yeah?"

"If I show you something and ask you about it, will you get angry?"

"Of course not," I say. "What is it?"

She walks quickly over to a bag and pulls out a few magazines. I'm confused and then she throws down the first article. "We like to read gossip," Evie tells me. "And we just recognized you from this picture."

"'Danny Jones: New Fling or the Real Thing?'" I read aloud, but I say the rest in my head.

_"Danny Jones, guitarist and vocalist of the popular band McFly, seems to have his hands on a particular woman this summer. Our cameras first caught him snogging outside of a bar in July with an unidentified woman and the two were also caught skinny dipping the same night."_

_That explains the pond smell, anyway, _I think.

_"The following snapshot was taken of the woman leaving his hotel room the next morning."_

The article shows a picture of me---that is obviously not photoshopped---climbling out of the window. I remember the flash I saw that day and feel like an idiot. I guess I got caught after all.

_"No word yet on whether Jones and the Mystery Woman are serious or just a fling."_

I put the article down and Tegan pushes another one towards me. "There's these two as well."

I'm afraid to read it, but I open it up and see a picture of Owen and I on the first page. It's from our "date" when I felt like someone was staring at me; guess I was right. I raise my eyebrows, completely lost, and I begin to read.

_"It appears that Danny Jones's Mystery Woman has her eyes on a new rising star. Owen Price has been in numerous bands for the past few years, one being McFly. Everyone remembers when Owen, who was the drummer, had a falling out with none other than Danny Jones, leading Price to be kicked out of the band and replaced with Harry Judd."_

"Oh, my God," I whisper under my breath. Does anyone care to tell me that they're in famous bands, or is it fun to keep me in the dark?

_"Price and Mystery Woman were seen walking through London earlier in the week, holding hands and various other acts of affection."_

"What a bunch of crap!" I say loudly, my voice high-pitched. The whole family looks at me and I give them a meak smile, embarrassed. I read on, mad and annoyed.

_"Are Price and Mystery Woman the real deal? How is Danny Jones taking the news? More on this as it develops."_

I switch to the last article which is titled: Danny Jones in Love Triangle with Old Rival. I roll my eyes. This is the furthest thing from a love triangle.

_"Last time we spoke of the Danny Jones Mystery Woman (see photo above), she was hanging around with is rival, Owen Price.  
Recently, we've seen Mystery Woman at a McFly concert. Jones jumped off the stage and chatted with her and inside sources say she was then taken backstage. No one knows what happened backstage, but we can take a guess that it wasn't just 'friendly conversation'._

"That's _exactly_ what it was!" I realize I'm yelling at a piece of paper again and I blush but keep on reading.

_"Who is this Mystery Woman, you might be asking. The only information we have obtained is that she is American.  
What is going to happen between Price, Jones, and Mystery Woman? Do they already know of the cirmustances?" _

I put it down and I stare straight ahead, letting all that I've read process. I know I shouldn't believe a gossip column, but some of it was accurate. Were Owen and Danny actually enemies?

"So, is it true Lucy?" Evie asks, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.

I hesitate. What should I say? "Well, I am friends with Owen. And I know Danny. But none of the other stuff is true."

Evie and Tegan look almost disappointed. "Too bad," Evie says. "Danny Jones is positively fit."

"Mmm-hhm," Tegan replies with a smile on her face. "Could you introduce us?"

I smile at her. "Maybe someday," I tell her. "I'll see what I can do."

They both grin from ear-to-ear with excitement. "You're amazing, Lucy," Tegan says.

"Totally," Evie adds. "How much longer are you here for?"

"Six days," I tell them sadly. "But I'm definitely coming back when I can," I promise them.

The rest of the night, the only thing I can think about is Danny and Owen. I have to talk to one of them as soon as possible. I want---no wait---I _need_ to know the truth. I'm sick of being in the dark.


	13. A Story

**Chapter Twelve.**

Two mornings later, I hear a banging outside of my bedroom. I groggily get up and wish whoever is making that incessant noise to stop before I hurt them and then I see who it is and feel like hurting them anyway.

"Seriously?" I say, aggravated. "I swear, Owen, you choose to work at six o'clock just to piss me off."

Owen looks up from his woodwork and says, "Oh. Hey, Lucy."

Is that seriously all he has to say? "Thought you had a new job."

"I put a lot of work into this flat," he explains. "I'm not just going to stop now."

"David's making you work on in still, huh?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he confesses.

There's an awkward silence lingering between the two of us and I just decide to be completely blunt. "Do you know Danny Jones?"

"Huh?"

"Danny Jones from McFly," I explain. "Have you ever met him?"

I can see that he's uneasy. He sticks his hands in his pockets and purses his lips before he finally answers. "Yes, I have." His tone is flat.

"And were you friends, aquaintences, lovers perhaps?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "You're ridiculous, Lucy."

I shrug. "If I were boring, you wouldn't like me at all."

"Who says I like you anyway?" he says, but I can tell he's using sarcasm.

I pretend to act hurt and make fake crying noises. "You really hurt my feelings. To think, I thought you were in love with me and wanted to get married and the whole deal."

"Damn, you've caught me," he says, snapping his fingers together. "What do you say? Let's get married tomorrow?"

"Make it tonight and you've got a deal." I smile and he gives me one, that actually shows off his dimples, right back.

His attention starts focusing back on his woodwork and I say, "Hey, you haven't answered my question."

He sighs. "All right. I'll marry you tonight."

"Come on," I press. "I'm being serious now."

"Can I record that, 'cause I don't think I'll ever hear you say that ever---"

"Owen." I'm getting frustrated and I'm cranky. No one should ever wake me up unless they want to get snapped at. He has it coming.

He lets out another exasperated sigh. "We didn't part on the best of terms if that's what you're asking."

"Care to elaborate?"

He looks at me quizzically. "Why do you want to know?"

I put on the most casual face I can. "I read it in a magazine once and I just wondered if it was true."

"Magazines aren't exactly reliable, you know that right?"

I roll my eyes. "Could you just tell me the damn story?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Owen says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you tell me the real reason for you wanting to know."

I look at him for a second and then I run a hand through my hair. "You've seen the magazines too, haven't you?"

"Yeah," he says. "And was any of that stuff true?"

"Could we stop avoiding the real subject here?" I demand. I don't want to talk about what was in those magazines.

"I'm not the only one avoiding things," Owen points out. "Just tell me now and I will never ask you another question again."

"Oh yeah?"

"No."

I sigh. "What have you read?"

"Well, I read one where Danny, you, and I were in a very steamy love triangle, and I already know that one's obviously a fake." He pauses to think of another one. "Oh, and there was that one where you're apparently pregnant with his child, but I think it's mine."

I scoff. "Seriousy?"

"Yeah, I read it yesterday."

"Wow." I'm tentative to ask him if he's read anything else, but I do.

He nods. "I saw the one of you crawling out the window, if that's what you mean."

"Oh." I tuck my hair behind my ear. "Yeah, um, I can't say that one was completely bogus," I admit. "In fact, I think that one's pretty accurate. I was kind of drunk, though, so I could be wrong." Oh jeez, I'm rambling. I bite my lip to make myself shut up.

Owen doesn't look surprised in the slightest. "Figures."

"What do you mean?" I sat defensively. Is he calling me a whore?

"It's just a typical Danny move," he says. "Drunken one night stands."

I'm feeling embarrassed, though I'm not exactly sure why. He's not insulting me; at least, not directly.

"Could you just tell me why you guys don't particularly for one another?" I ask, my voice less pushy this time.

"Fine," Owen finally says. "But you've got to promise me something first."

I nod. "Sure."

"You won't hate me, and you won't think Danny's some sort of 'victim,' because he isn't."

"Yeah, okay," I say. "Just tell me already."

He lets out a deep breath and spills out something I bet he's been keeping in for a long time, just for me.

----  
**2003  
Owen**

I need to get into this band, otherwise I'm stuck being a cook at Mitchell's Inn for eternity, and I don't want to do that. I want to be in a band. I want to be able to play my drums in front of thousands and thousands of people (most of them hopefully being very fit girls). I want to be that poster on some girl's wall that they stare at every night, wishing they could have me, but know there's a slim chance of it. I want the fame. I want the money. I want the girls. I want it all.

I curse myself for being so shallow, but I know it's true. And I bet if I asked any of the guys that auditioned with me that day, they'd say the same thing.

I'm waiting by my phone, praying for a call. _Please, please, please, let me be in this band,_ I'm begging inside my head.

I feel so desperate and pathetic right now. I'm spending all my time hoping that I get into some sort of pop band?

My phone rings and I jump out of my skin. I pick it up and answer with a shaky, "Hello?"

The voice on the other end says, "Congratulations; you're in!" and then the realization sinks in right away.

I smile. I'm in a band.

----

"You've already met Danny and I at the audition," Tom, one of the lead singers, tells me a few mornings later. "This is Dougie Poynter." He gestures to a boy with blonde hair who looks like he's barely gone through puberty. "He's going to be the bass player."

Dougie gives me a small wave and a little smile. I say, "Hello," in return and I'm smiling with the excitement.

"So, when do we go into the studio?" I ask eagerly.

"Right," Tom says. "I thought we could just sort of hang out and get to know each other right now."

I'm a little disappointed, but I say, "All right." No need getting off on the wrong foot.

A few hours in and I've run out of things to say to any of them. They've all gone into a deep discussion about two bands that I'd never heard of and which one was better. I look at my watch every few minutes, bored.

"Hey, guys," I say, and they all shut up for a second and look at me. "I'm going to get going now, all right?"

"Yeah, sure," Tom says, sounding eager just to get back into the debate.

"Bye," Dougie and Danny say in unison. I say my own goodbyes and I'm out the door. Maybe this band thing wouldn't be so great after all.

----

I'm in a pub a few nights later, drinking with a girl that I've never met before. She says her name is Elle. No, that's not right. It was Emma. No, that's not it either.

I'd like to ask her what her name is, but I know that will just result in her leaving completely. And I could go for a good shag tonight, especially since I just know that I'm going to be booted from the band. Danny Jones hates me and I know it; I can tell by the way he looks at me.

As I take a swig of my beer, she says, "I'm so furious right now, it's not even funny."

She takes a shot of whiskey as I ask, "Why?" I don't really care, but I might as well make her seem like I do.

"Well," she starts, "today, I found out that my boyfriend cheated on me."

"Oh," I reply almost lifelessly. "That sucks."

"Tell me about it." She takes another shot. "Have you ever been cheated on?"

I nod. "Once. Girl named Jessica," I say plainly. I haven't spoken of Jessica in what feels like ages ago.

"Happen recently?"

"About a year ago."

"Does it still hurt?" Her voice sounds serious and hurt at the same time.

I nod my head once. "Not loads though," I tell her. "Barely stings now."

She takes yet another shot; how many has she had? She looks over at the door and moans. "Oh no."

I look over at what she's upset over and I see Danny walk in with Tom. "That the boyfriend?"

She nods and tears start to fill her eyes. "I hate him," she spits.

"Which one?"

"The brunette," she replies.

I glance over at Danny and Tom who have yet to notice our presence and I look at how happy he is. He just cheated on his girlfriend and he's smiling and laughing right in front of her. That jackass.

"Say," I start, "have you ever heard of the phrase, 'Don't get mad, get even'?"

She nods her head. "What have you got in mind?" I look at her for just a few seconds till she gets it. "Oh."

"What do you say?" What? I'm probably going to be kicked out of the band anyway; might as well have a shag on the way down right?

She looks over at Danny, her expression sad, but then she smiles at me. "Let's go."

----

The next morning, I roll over on my bed and jump when I see there's a person next to me.

_Calm yourself, Owen,_ I think._ It's just that girl from last night._

Oh God. What I did hits me hard right then that I've completely blown any chances of being in the band now. Last night, I figured I was done for, now I know it.

I run my hand through my hair anxiously, then get up and put my clothes on as quietly and quickly as possible. I don't want her to wake up.

I try and remember what exactly happened last night, but I don't really remember. I can recall being in the pub when Danny walked in and I bet that he saw me leaving with his girl. And I definitely remember the sex.

Oh God. I am such an idiot.

----

"You fucking bastard!" is the first thing that flies out of Danny's mouth when I walk into the studio.

I know there's no point in trying to lie my way out of this; after all, he saw me leave with her. But I can always use his own mistakes and rub them in his face. "Me? Last I checked, I wasn't the only one with dirty hands here!"

"What in the bloody hell are you---" He stops yelling for a second and changes his mind on what he's saying. "Get out."

I saw that one coming. "Sure," I say. "But I'd just like you to know that you deserved it."

His face shows his anger well. "Leave. Now. You fucking ass."  
I do as he says and I slam the front door, hoping it's the last time I'll ever see or hear of Danny Jones again.

**----  
Lucy**

When Owen finishes, I don't say anything. I'm too afraid to.

"Well?" he says. "Go ahead and say it."

"Say what?" My voice is soft and quiet for some reason.

"Tell me that you hate me."

I roll my eyes. "Drama queen."

"It's what you're thinking isn't it?"

I shake my head. "I was just thinking about what a huge idiot you are for doing that. Getting even is just about the dumbest thing you can ever do."

He looks at me and I can see that he really does feel guilty about the whole thing. "So…you don't hate me then?"

"No!" I tell him. "And so what if I did? What would you do then?"

He shrugs. "Beg for you to see my side of this fucked up situation."

"I get it," I say. "It was a stupid thing to do, but I can get why you did it."

"You do?"

I nod. "Obviously, you were using Emma or whatever the hell her name was, for sex, but you were also using her as some weird way to get back at your ex for cheating on you. Also, you didn't like Danny and you knew he cheated on her which you didn't care for, so you thought he could use it. You were, in your own weird way, thinking of Danny as Jessica. Am I right?"

He just looks at me. "What? I've taken psychology."

"And did you explain things like that?"

I roll my eyes. "Shut up."

He smiles. "You sure you don't hate me?"

"Argh!" I scream out in frustration. "I think I'm starting to, yeah."

"Sorry," he says sincerely. "It's just…I couldn't bear the thought of you hating me."

I smile. "I thought you didn't like me anyway?"

"Hey," he says, "haven't we already established that I'm marrying you tonight?"

"How do I know you're not just using me because you now know I'm easy."

He raises an eyebrow. "I never said you were easy."

"Um, sleeping with random people you don't know when you're drunk can sometimes lead people to think you're easy," I tell him.

"I didn't think you were easy," he tells me truthfully, but then he raises his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you though?"

I hit him on the forearm and he yelps. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" I roll my eyes as he rubs his arm.

"Nope," he says, his voice higher than usual. "I'm good."

"Are you almost done with that?" I ask, gesturing to his woodwork.

He sighs. "Not even close." I groan. "Sorry. Did you want some sleep?"

"Nah," I say. "I'm thinking of becoming a full time insomniac."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

He laughs. "You really are quite odd."

"It's all part of my charm," I say proudly.

He smiles at me, those dimples appearing again. "That it is."

I blush and blush more at the fact that I'm blushing. "Owen?" I say almost timidly. God, what is wrong with me?

"Yeah?"

"What…what do you honestly think of me?"

He purses his lips and chews on his lower lip for a second. "The whole truth?"

"Nothing but," I reply.

It takes him a few minutes, but then he says, "I think you're incredible."

I smile despite myself and blush more, my stomach doing tiny flips. I'm just about to say something when Owen interrupts my thoughts. "I should, uh, probably get back to work."

"Oh yeah," I say. "Right. Of course. Sorry to bother you."

As I walk away, I hear Owen say something I don't quite catch. I turn around and say, "Did you say something?"

He takes a deep breath in. "I just said I should never have agreed to being just friends with someone like you."

I'm about to say, "Hell yeah! Right back at you, buddy!" but my gut tells me to chicken out. I know I shouldn't resist the gut urge, but I really don't want to hear it this time.

"Same here," I whisper as I come closer to him, a small smile spreading across my face.

He sets down his work and steps carefully over all of his equipment, coming closer to me. "You're not screwing with me, are you?" His smile shows that he's trying to joke around, but his eyes say that he's completely serious.

I laugh quietly. "No," I promise.

"Are you sure? Because I---"

"Owen."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me already."

He smiles. "Well, if you insist." He pulls me in by the waist and kisses me. I ignore every part of me screaming that this is a bad idea, and give into what I've been feeling for a while, but haven't been able to admit to.

Screw those gut urges.


	14. An Airport Run In

**Chapter Thirteen.  
**  
My alarm goes off at five thirty in the morning and I roll over and moan into my pillow.

I have to go home today.

I don't want to go back to the states. I don't want to face my dad (who, by the way, hasn't called me since I got here; coward). I don't want to see what's changed since I left. I don't want to leave Gran. I don't want to leave David. Hell, I don't want to leave Dulce at this point (although, that's the easiest of the goodbyes).

And then there's Owen, who has pulled another disappearing act on me ever since we kissed in the flat. _I guess I should've listened to my gut… _

I sigh, pull on some clothes, and start to stuff my suitcase up with my things carelessly. By the time I get motivated enough to actually head downstairs, it's six fifteen and I know I have to get to the airport soon. But I have one last little detour to take.

----

"Lucy." Gran sounds surprised, but pleased, to see me.

I smile. "Hey, Gran."

"I thought you were supposed to be heading back to America today."

"I am," I say glumly. "But I wanted to say goodbye to you first."

She smiles at me, her crow's feet showing. "Well, come on in, love."

I sigh. "I can't. I'm running late as it is." I give her a hug and whisper, "Thank you so much."

She's hugging me back and she says, "For what dear?"

"For accepting me right away," I tell her as we pull apart. "For not kicking me straight out of your flat."

She gives me another smile. "You're my family, love," she says simply. Tears sting my eyes at the word. Family. The word sounds so nice.

----

I have six minutes to get to my terminal before the plane takes off and I'm pushing through crowds of people trying to make it on time. Are airports always this crowded?

I almost make it all the way to my terminal without any collisions, but of course, it wouldn't be me if I didn't run into a random stranger now would it?

I run straight into the chest of someone and say, "I'm so sorry!" as quickly as possible and try to make my escape (I've got two minutes left) but then I look up at the stranger and find that it's no stranger at all.

_Thanks again, Remote Controller. Really appreciate it_, I think sarcastically. _Hope you're having fun._

"Luce?" Luce? No one's called me that before.

"Hey, Danny," I say breathlessly. "Nice to see you again."

He's got that brilliant smile plastered to his face. "It's great to see you again, too," and he sounds like he means it.

"Look, sorry," I say, "but I've really got to go."

"Heading back to the states?" he guesses. I nod. "Are you coming back any time soon?"

I shrug. "Hope so." One minute. "I really need to go, though." I start to move away from him and walk as fast as I can towards my terminal. "Bye!" I call.

"But I've got---!" he yells at me, reaching for something.

Quickly, I say, "Sorry!" and then I make it over to my terminal with five seconds to spare.

I can't help but feel guilty for how I treated Danny back there. I was really rude, but I really had to go. I couldn't miss this flight; I had no spare money for another ticket.

I lean my head against my seat and sigh. I can make up all the excuses that I want, but I know what the main reason for the rushed conversation is. I'm just like my dad, running away from the awkward situations and the things I don't want to face.

I'm a coward, just like him.

----

Remy isn't home when I get home to our apartment we just started to rent together and I'm glad. She likes to ask questions and I don't want to answer any.

I throw my bags into my room and flop onto my bed, running my hands through my hair. I turn on my phone and see that I've got one new call from Remy. When I check my voicemail it's her, telling me that she's going to be gone till tomorrow. I've got the whole place to myself till then and I couldn't be more relieved. Alone sounds nice right now.

Alone sucks.

I take a nap and when I wake up, I take a shower. Then, I try to find something good to watch on TV (and fail). I listen to some music to calm myself, but even that can't keep my attention. I already miss London.

"Home sweet home," I whisper to myself. "Guess I'd better get used to this."


	15. A Phone Call

A/N: Thanks for the reviews :) And just as a head's up---Danny won't be back in this fic for a few more chapters but he'll be back before you know it. Promise. :P

**Chapter Fourteen.****  
**  
_2007.  
_

I'm packing my things for another trip to London---a place I've been missing all year---when my phone rings. It's my dad. It's not the first time he's called and it wouldn't be the first time I picked up if I did.

The last conversation went a little like this:

"Hello?" I say smoothly.

"Hello, Lucy," Dad replies. "How was London?"

"Fine."

"Good."

"Yep."

"So…did you find the letter?"

"Uh huh."

There's a pause on his end before he says. "Good. Is…everyone well?"

"Ask them yourself," I snap before I hang up on him. I hadn't answered since. If he really cares about them, then he will talk to them himself.

I'm sad that I only get to spend a week in London, but I'm ecstatic that I managed to scrape up enough cash to stay there that long.

I'm about to head to the airport when my phone rings again. It's my dad and I'm completely fed up. "Fine Dad," I say. "If you want to talk, then we'll talk."

I head out my door and take a detour to my dad's for the first time since last year.

----

I really, really, wish I had thought this through.

I'm standing at my dad's front door, too scared to knock on the door. This is complete crap. It used to be my house, too, and now I'm afraid to go in?

Coward.

I argue with myself silently for a good ten minutes before I finally just change my mind and turn around. I'm halfway up the driveway when I hear my dad call, "Lucy?"

I stop, but I don't turn around. Hearing his voice makes me feel furious and I clench my fists together to try and calm myself down. It doesn't help.

"Lucy, what are you doing here?" I hear him coming closer.

"You wanted to talk," I say robotically. "Here I am."

"It's so nice to see you," he comments and I think I can hear a smile in his voice. Why does that make me angry?

"How could you lie?" My stupid traitor voice breaks and tears start to sting my eyes. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down.

"I never lied," he tells me, sounding like he's appalled at me even thinking of uttering those words.

"Bullshit," I practically hiss as I turn on my heel to finally face him.

"Lucy Annabelle Wright!" He used to always say that when I was five and did something wrong. But I'm not five anymore. He's got the strict face on.

"You told me, to my face, for _years, _that I had no family out there. Tell me, did you lie about Mom's family too?"

"No!" he defends. "She was an only child and grew up in foster care. You know that."

"I don't think I know anything about this family anymore," I say.

"Just give me a chance to explain---"

I cut him off. "You had plenty of chances, Dad! You could've told me about this years ago at any given time, but you didn't." And then I said the words I instantly regretted as they flew out of my mouth. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to me."

I turn myself around, not wanting to see the look on his face, and let the tears fall.

I'm still crying as I get on the plane.

----

I get off my flight, cool, calm, and collected, and see my uncle David at the doors, waving at me. I give him a smile and then put down my stuff to give him a hug. His body stiffens at first, obviously surprised, but then he hugs back and takes one of my bags.

"You don't have to do that," I tell him, reaching for my bag.

He pulls it further from me. "Not a chance, Miss Lucy," he says. "I'm perfectly capable of handling a bag."

I give up instantly. "It's great to see you again, Uncle David."

He smiles. "It's wonderful to see you, too, Lucy," he says and we make our way outside and to the taxi.

"Oh no," I hear the taxi driver mutter. "Please tell me you have some cash."

Uncle David looks completely lost and says, "I have money, thanks," and then tells him where we're headed. I don't feel like telling him about the taxi driver story from last year, especially if I already did. I don't want to talk about Owen and I don't want to talk about my dad either.

"So, have you spoken to your father?"

I sigh. _Jinxed myself on that one._ "Nope," I lie, not wanting to get into detail, hoping he'll let it drop, but I've forgotten that Uncle David can be persistent.

"Why?"

"He lied to me." The taxi driver's eyes shift to the back seat, sparkling with curiosity.

"So?" he says. "Are you going to be like him and just ignore the problem until one day you find a piece of paper and decide that you'd like to write it down and post what you think on the mirror?"

"Not a bad plan," I murmur.

"Lucy." His tone is cross.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say strongly.

"You have to speak to your father eventually."

"Who says?"

He sighs. "You're just making the same mistake that he did, Lucy."

My eyebrows crunch together. "What do you mean?"

"If you'd speak to your dad, you'd know."

"He wouldn't tell me a thing," I say knowingly.

"He might surprise you."

"Doubt it."

"You never know."

I just stop talking, thinking that David might follow my lead. But, of course, he doesn't. The whole way he gives me a lecture on how people can change and blah, blah, blah. I block him out the whole rest of the way to Mitchell's Inn until I finally just snap when he says, "You're just like your father right now," right after the taxi drives off.

"I am not," I force out, but the truth is that I'd been thinking the same thing all year.

"Then prove it," he says. "Talk to him."

I'm about to say something back, but then my phone rings. It's Remy and I sigh. "Hold on." I answer and say, "Hello?"

"It's about fucking time!" she yells into her phone so loudly that I actually pull the phone away from my ear. "Jeez, do you know how to answer a phone?"

"Whoa, Remy," I say, "What's---"

"You know, you could've picked up your phone at least once."

"Remy," I say. "Can you stop lecturing me and tell my why you're calling?"

"So irrespons---"

"Remy!" I yell. "Tell me what the hell you need to tell me!"

I hear her sigh. "I just got a call from Luke."

"My neighbor Luke?" I ask. What the hell is he doing calling Remy?

She nods. "He said he saw your dad get taken away in an ambulance."

My stomach drops, but I reassure myself and then Remy. "You know that Luke is one of those liars that makes up stories when he gets bored, right?" Luke's about my age, but he acts like a five-year-old whose parents don't give him enough attention.

"Yeah," she says. "That's why I called my mom who works at the closest hospital to check it out?"

"And?" Part of me is telling me that I really don't want to know, but my curiosity (and concern and guilt) want to know.

"Luke wasn't lying," she tells me, her voice quiet. I can hear her voice shaking. "Lucy, your dad had a heart attack this morning."


	16. A Wait

**Chapter Fifteen.  
**  
I swallow hard and my body is suddenly shaking underneath me. "Lucy?" I hear Remy's voice calling on the other end. "Lucy, are you there?"

"I have to go," I tell her and I hang up before she can say another word. Uncle David looks at me and I wonder what my face looks like. He's looking at me like I'm about to explode or something.

"All right?" he asks cautiously. I shake my head. "What's the matter?"

My eyes start to sting with the tears and I say, "I need to go back home."

"Whoa, whoa," Uncle David says, stepping closer to me. "Why?"

The words stick my tongue and there's a dry lump forming in my throat. "It's---I---my d---" I give up speaking and head straight into the Inn to plug in my laptop.

"What are you doing?" David asks, sounding more worried than anything.

I don't answer and tap my fingers anxiously on the bar as I wait for my laptop to turn on; is it always this slow?

"Lucy, what's going on?"

I pull out my Internet card and google "tickets to U.S. from London" and ignore David.

He gets frustrated with my behavior and goes behind the counter with me to see what I'm up to. "Tickets to the U.S.?" he repeats. "What's the matter? You've only really been here two minutes, unless you count the taxi ride."

"I need to go home," I say. "I can't live with myself if I don't."

His eyebrows rise. "What do you mean?"

I sigh, but not because of what he said; the next plane I can catch to the U.S. from anywhere near here is tomorrow morning and costs a fortune. Then again, if I hadn't been so horrible, maybe I wouldn't be in this situation. It's obviously all my fault; if I hadn't said anything to him, maybe if I wasn't such a horrible daughter, he wouldn't have had a heart attack.

New tears arrive and make it almost impossible for me to see. "Lucy," David says gently. "Please tell me what's wrong; maybe I can help."

I shake my head and a few tears fall down. "You can't help."

"You don't know that."

"Do you have a time machine?"

He looks at me like I've gone nuts. "No?" It comes out as a question.

"Then you can't help me." I slip my laptop into my bag and then start to head up to my flat Uncle David promised would be there for me when I came here.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," I inform him while I stand at the foot of the stairs. "I have…something I need to do and I don't want to talk about it right now. Okay?"

"But---" David starts.

"Please," I beg him. "It's…kind of a long story and I don't want to delve into it at the moment."

"But that's not---"

I'm heading up the stairs now, giving up; apparently, there's no getting through to him. He's still following me up the stairs and as I reach my flat and open the door, I see a familiar face staring back at me, holding some sort of tool in his hand.

"Oh," he says nervously. "Hey, Lucy."

_Really? _I think to my Remote Controller. _You couldn't have given me a break?_

I sigh. "How's it going, Owen?"

"Fine," he answers as I'm comparing him to the last time I saw him.

I only just notice that his blonde curls have grown out more, covering his eyes now. He looks like he's lost a bit of weight, but he also seems more muscular.

I stop ogling and he says, "I haven't seen you since…"

"Since you tried shoving your tongue down my throat?" I say bluntly. He looks down at his feet for a second and I wonder if that's because he's embarrassed or because he's ashamed at the fact that he ever kissed me.

I stop thinking about that and head past him to go into my room. I raise my eyebrows when I see clothes piled onto the unmade bed.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me right now," I say mostly to myself.

"Oh," Owen says, "did Dave not mention that I'm staying here?"

His voice seems smug and I want to deck him right then and there. This is so not my day.

_"My God,"_ I say angrily. "Does anyone fucking _tell_ me anything anymore?"

Owen looks at me like he's a little lost. "Lucy, if it makes you feel better, I'll go to one of my mate's flats tonight."

I'm shaking my head. "That's not the problem here," I say. "Okay, fine, it is _part _of the problem, but it's not what I'm talking about."

Something in that thick head of his must click because then he says, "Oh."

I sit down on the sofa before I even realize that this whole place is almost completely finished. The only thing that needs to be done is the floor in the kitchen and some fresh paint.

"Wow," I say. "This place looks a lot better than the last time I was here."

Owen gives me a proud smile. "I've been working overtime with David during the winter."

I have to ask. "Where did you go?"

I'm grateful that I don't need to go into anymore detail. "I had some business to tend to," he says simply.

"Business?"

He nods. "I'm working on getting my own band together," he explains. "So far, I've got a couple of guys interested in being bass players and there's this one guy with killer vocals."

"That's great," I tell him. "But, you couldn't have called? At all?"

He looks guilty. "I guess…I dunno," he fumbles lamely.

I roll my eyes. "Please. Don't overload me with details."

"I'm sorry, okay?" he says. "I just…" He never finishes.

"Whatever," I tell him as I get up from the sofa. "I don't really care anyway. I'm over it."

I head into the bedroom, take his stuff off the bed, and lay down. Not only am I a coward, but now I'm a liar too.

----

I've spent the majority of my time inside the bedroom, worrying about my dad and thinking way too much about everything. There's a knock on the door and I get up begrudgingly and open it.

"Oh," I say, a bit surprised that it isn't Owen. "Hey, David."

"Tell me what the hell is going on with you right now, Lucy," he demands, that strictness in his voice slightly intimidating. At least I see where Dulce has inherited the curiosity problem from.

I sigh. "Come on in," I say as I step out of his way. He sits down on the desk chair and I stand, not being able to keep my legs still.

I tell him about anything that has involved my dad for the past year and I hesitate on saying the words "heart attack" and "Dad" in the same sentence, but manage to get it out.

Uncle David stares at me for the first few seconds then says, "Why didn't you say all this straight off?"

I shrug. "I didn't want to talk about it." _Still don't,_ a little voice in the back of my head whispers back.

"And you couldn't get a flight out until tomorrow?"

I nod. "There's no way I'm going to sleep tonight either," I tell him. "It's going to feel like a year."

"I wish I could go with you, but I have so much to do here…"

"I know," I say understandingly. "I'll let him know you say hi." _Assuming he's alive,_ that voice whispers. I wish I knew how to make it shut up.

"Still," he says, "I don't like that you're going all by yourself."

"I went here all by myself," I remind him.

"Yes, but you weren't under so much stress," he points out. "I think you should bring someone else along."

"Like who?" I say, but I already know who he's going to suggest.

"Ask Owen. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Plus, I'll bet he wants to see America."

I sigh. "David?"

"Hmm?"

"What in the world are you plotting?"

"Nothing," he assures me and it sounds pretty genuine. "I just don't want my niece to be alone right now."

I sigh again. "Would I have to ask him?" I don't feel like talking to him about the situation.

The door opens up and Owen says, "Nope, I think I've heard it all, and I'd be glad to go with you."

"Fantastic," I mutter under my breath.


	17. An Awkward Trip

**Chapter Sixteen.  
**  
"No."

"What? But you've already promised David---"

"Tough shit."

"Tough shit right back at you," Owen says, throwing more things into his suitcase. "I'm going because David asked me to."

I roll my eyes. "I don't want you to go." At this point, Dulce would be a better option, but I know there's no way she'd ever do that for me anyway.

"Your point?"

"I want to be alone."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

He shakes his head. "I do," I say more strongly. "And if this is how you're going to act, I really don't want you anywhere near me. You're starting to aggravate me."

"I'm sorry," he says and I know what he's really saying is, "I know that your dad might be dying and I'm being an ass, so I'm sorry, but I'm still going so suck it up."

"It's fine," I lie; it's not even close to being fine right now. Every minute that passes is another minute that my dad might not be there. It makes me sick to think about it. "I'm just a bit sick of being overprotected."

He gives me a quizzical look. "Overprotected?"

I sigh. "I'm a big girl," I tell him. "I can handle things all by myself just fine."

"That may be true," he says sounding like some old wise man, "but you don't need to go through this by yourself. In fact, most people would kill to have people looking after them like this."

"Like who?" It's really rhetorical, just so I can get the last word in, and I gather up my bags and head for the door. "Are you coming or what?" I ask wearily.

Owen picks up his bag and we have that awkward dance with each other as we try to get out the door.

Well, wasn't this trip going to be fun.

----

Owen taps on his armrest for most of the trip and it's driving me nuts. At one point, I put my hand over his and squeezed, giving him a face that showed I wasn't trying to hold his hand. He gave me an apologetic smile and I let go of his hand. Not two minutes later, he's tapping again.

I give up trying to make him stop; he's already told me he's a nervous flyer. If it makes him feel better, then I'll try to ignore it.

The plane finally lands what feels like days later and Owen basically crawls over the crowd exiting the plane. I can't help but chuckle a little at his anxiety, but I do feel a bit bad about it at the same time. I know I never liked when my dad laughed at my fear of spiders.

When we make it "back on land" as Owen says, I tease him by saying, "Why don't you kiss the ground, too?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Shut it." There's no trace of a threat in his voice when he says that.

As we make our way through the airport, Owen makes the mistake of running into someone who was obviously in a hurry. "Sorry," he apologizes.

The man he ran into just keeps walking, an annoyed look on his voice. Owen looks almost baffled by the man's rudeness.

I give him a pat on the shoulder and, in an overly cheerful voice, say, "Welcome to America."

----

We arrive at my place about a half hour later and I drop my bags right down. Owen keeps his slung over his shoulder.

"What?" I finally say. He's just standing there and it's getting on my nerves. I need sleep so badly right now.

"You sure you want me to stay here?" he asks cautiously.

No, I think, but I say, "Sure. The hotels in this area suck anyway."

"Well, okay," he says, setting his bag slowly down where I put mine. "Do you have a spare room?"

I hesitate. "I have a couch," I offer as I gesture to the couch. "I mean, if you'd like to stay in a hotel I completely get it. It's just that---"

"They suck," he finishes. "Yeah, you've said that already."

I curse myself for repeating things. Now he probably thinks I'm nervous to be around him or something. "Right," I say. "Um, I'm going to go take a shower and then I'm heading to the hospital. Make yourself at home, go sight seeing, whatever."

"Thanks," he says and I see him heading towards the couch as I take a shower. I'm just getting out of the shower when I hear a high-pitched scream coming from the living room. "Shit," I say. Remy doesn't know Owen and she doesn't know Owen's here…"Shit, shit,_ shit,"_ I mutter as I grab my robe and wrap it tightly around myself.

Sure enough, Remy's out there holding a rolling pin (we have one of those?) and Owen's cowering into the far corner of the couch.

"Lucy!" she says. "Thank God you're here! I just caught this guy on the couch watching TV!"

"I've been trying to tell you---" Owen starts, but Remy cuts him off.

"Shut up," she snaps. "Lucy, who the hell is this?"

I hesitate, knowing she didn't like him before she even knew him. "Owen," I say. "Remember him?"

She looks down at him and back at me. "No way."

I nod. "'Fraid so."

"Hey!" Owen says, obviously offended. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I ignore him. "Remy, put down the rolling pin before someone gets hurt."

"Why didn't you tell me he was coming with you?" she asks, sounding a bit hurt being left out of things.

"It was all a bit last minute," I tell her. "And I tried calling you, but your line was always busy."

"Oh," is all she says. She lowers her arm and Owen slowly sits himself back up.

"How about a proper introduction?" Remy says and I sigh.

"Owen, Remy. Remy, Owen," I say quickly as I gesture back and forth.

"Nice to meet you," Owen says halfheartedly.

"Mmphf," Remy replies, her eyes narrowing at him. _Oh, please, let them get along,_ I beg. _Just for a little while at least._

"I don't like you," she says bluntly and then she walks away and heads for her room.

I rub my face with my hand._ Or, you know, that works, too._

----

"Remy?" I say as I crack her door open a few minutes later, after I've changed into clothes.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

She doesn't say anything, so I take that as a yes and make my way through. Remy's room is the complete opposite of what you'd think. She's got everything perfectly organized and doesn't have a thing scattered on her floor. It's incredibly remarkable in my opinion.

"So…about Owen---"

"Lucy," Remy says, "what are you doing with that guy?"

"Nothing," I say defensively. "There was that date thing and then I kissed him right before I went back home from London last year, but that's it."

"I knew it," she says.

"What?" I say lamely.

She sighs. "It's so obvious something's going on between you two. You'd have to be blind not to see it."

"Nothing's going on---"

"Bullshit," she interjects. "Look, I know that you're still going to do what you want to do, but I'd like to get my opinion in on this."

I let out a big breath. "Here we go," I murmur.

"He's not right," she says. "I don't know what it is exactly, but what I'm seeing going on between you two isn't something that's going to wind up ending well."

I roll my eyes. "Remy, you saw us together for, like, three minutes."

"So?" she replies. "I could be stuck in a room with you two for three days and I'd still see the same thing."

"Nothing is going on anyway," I repeat more firmly this time. "And if it were, I don't think I'd be going with what you think you see between us. Thanks for looking out for me and all, but I can take care of myself." My God, did I have "fragile" stamped to my forehead or something recently?

She just shrugs. "I get it. You want to find out for yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Okay, fine," I say. "I've been warned."

I'm walking out the door to go visit my dad when I hear Remy say, "He screams like a chick, by the way. That should be your cue to run."

I turn around and smirk a little. "That was _him?"_

She smiles. "I came in and he must've been watching something scary on TV because he shrieked like I was about to kill him. Then, I thought he was going to kill me---which, after that shriek, I should've known better---so I grabbed the rolling pin. He cowered into that corner in a split second."

I try to stifle my laughter of that mental picture, but I can't. I'm laughing hysterically and Remy has joined in with me and in that moment, I've forgotten everything from my dad to Owen and I just feel free.

If only I knew how to make that feeling last.


	18. A Hospital Visit

**Chapter Seventeen.**

I'm pacing outside the door of my dad's room, not sure if I really want to go in there anymore. My stomach twists and turns and my heart is pounding unevenly at the anticipation of seeing him laying down in that hospital bed, weak, feeble.

I hate the smell of hospitals, the look of hospitals, the word hospital. Needless to say, nurse and doctor are the careers at the bottom of my Things I'd Like to Be list.

A nurse walks by me and gives me a peculiar look. "Dear," she says. "Are you okay?"

"Um," I say, "I think so?" It came out as a question.

She keeps giving me that look. "Are you waiting for someone?"

I give her a sideways nod and she must just completely give up on me, because she's walking right down the hall again, not even looking back.

"Just do it," I whisper to myself. "Stop being a coward and do it before visiting hours end."

I'm holding onto the handle of the door and I can't seem to bring myself to twist it open. My hand is unsteady and it almost looks more like I've got some weird twitching problem in my fingers. I take a deep breath in and out and then I go for it.

"Dad?" I whisper when I walk in slowly, cautiously. He doesn't have a shared room and I'm incredibly grateful for that.

My heart sinks when I see him laying there, just like I thought it would, but I also want to just wrap my arms around him and burst into tears.

He looks so much older to me suddenly, the wrinkles on his face more evident. His eyes are barely opened and there's bags under them. He's got all these things attached to him, all these tubes, and I wonder what they're there for exactly as I try keeping my mind off of it.

I sit down in a chair that's placed next to his bed and I can hear the monitor beeping in my ear every few seconds. My dad moves his eyes up to my face, gives me a weak smile and says, "I'm sorry."

I feel like scum. No, wait. I feel lower than scum. My dad is the one that's laying down in a hospital bed, so close to death by the looks of it, and he's the one apologizing. "No, Dad," I say. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so---"

"Right," he finishes, his voice raspy. "You were absolutely right, Lucy. And this is not your fault. Do you understand me?"

I look down at my feet and run my fingers through my hair. "It is my fault, though," I insist. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I didn't mean it." There's a lump forming in my throat, making it harder to swallow, and my eyes are prickling with the tears that are starting up.

"Lucy," my dad says, "please stop blaming yourself for things you can't control. I know you didn't mean what you said."

I tilt my head up, almost like I'm attempting to bring the tears that are almost falling down back into my eyes. "How are you?" I want to change the subject of me being a horrible person and my dad denying it.

He gives me a small smile when I bring myself back to face him. "Just fine," he assures me. "It's a hereditary thing that was bound to happen eventually."

"And it won't happen again?"

"I hope not."

I sigh. That's not the answer I want to hear. I want him to say that he'll be around forever, that he won't ever give me a scare like this again, but I guess no one can promise me that.

"How long were you in London for?" he asks.

"One night," I say. "I took the next flight I could to the U.S. as soon as I heard."

"I wish you hadn't done that."

"You're my dad," I say. "I can't roam around London acting like everything's okay when I know you're sitting in a hospital."

There's a small silence before my dad breaks it by asking, "Does anyone know?"

"David," I say. "I don't know if he told anyone else or not."

He's staring off into space now and I know that he's thinking way too hard about something. "Look," I say, "I don't mean to pressure you or anything since---well, you know---but…can you tell me what went on with you and your family way back when?" I realize this is the worst time to ask this question, but I can't help myself.

He lets out a gush of air. "Suppose this is a good a time as any." He purses his lips. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"Wherever the whole mess started," I tell him. "And don't leave out any details."

He gives me a smile. "So much like your mum when I met her," he says.

"Are you going to actually tell me the story of you and Mom?" I ask hopefully. He never told me a thing, even when I asked, and I eventually just gave up.

"Are you kidding me?" my dad says. "That _is_ the story."

----

"Your mum was an artist," he tells me and I see his eyes sparkling as he speaks about her. I smile. "She was going to this art school somewhere in the states---I can't remember where---and she came to London for the summer as a 'source of inspiration.' She looked so much like you."

For some reason, I feel embarrassed when he says that. He goes on. "I was working with my father at Mitchell's Inn," he explains. "I was a cook there and my dad was the bartender and manager of the whole place.

"Andrew---have you met him?---was one of our 'waiters' and sometimes, he'd cooked as well. Anyway, I was getting absolutely sick of working there, too. David would've replaced me in a second if he wasn't so young, though. He loved that place."

"Still does," I say and I see a smile on his face.

"But then one day, this girl walks in, long brown hair, these blue eyes that just blazed with brilliance, and I was hooked the moment I saw her. She had such a presence to her and it was impossible for me to stay away.

"She was sitting at the bar when I came up to her. I asked her some ridiculous question as my chat up line and when she replied, I was too struck by her accent. We hadn't had many tourists coming into our Inn at the time. I asked her on a date shortly there after."

I laugh. "You don't waste time, do you, Dad?"

"Life is short," he tells me, and there's this eeriness to his words. "At any rate," he continues, "she said yes. We went out to this horrendous gig at some nearby pub and we went our separate ways for a bit.

"I wound up running into her a few days later, though, sketching something in the park. She gave me this smile that wasn't quite like her others; there was more to this one. I have only seen it one other time in my life and that was when I proposed to her. Made my heart melt both times.

"My dad didn't like how serious I was getting," he says, his tone not sounding quite so reminiscent and cheerful anymore. "Said I was spending too much time with this girl, that there was no way we'd ever make it together anyway since she lived in America. I ignored his comments or mumblings any time she was brought up or she randomly showed up at the Inn with a new sketch that she wanted me to have. I still have a drawer full of them."

"Did Mom go back to America at the end of the summer?" I ask.

He nods. "Kept in contact with letters and phone calls that made our phone bills outrageously expensive, but we didn't care. She even blew all her savings on traveling to London again for the summer. She dropped out of school and everything, just for me. I felt guilty and ecstatic at the same time. I felt like I had to even the score somehow, give up something like she did. And I knew just what I could do.

"I had this gut feeling that I was supposed to be with your mum and I don't ignore those kind of feelings."

I smile; I didn't know my dad has the same philosophy.

"I proposed to her the second night she was in London, told her that I would move to the states with her, and she said yes---to the proposal anyway. She didn't want me to give up my life in London and I assured her that I really didn't have one. I hadn't been really happy until I met her and I'd always wanted to go to America. She reluctantly gave in.

"Telling my parents was the difficult part. I knew your grandmother would be okay with it, since she liked your mum, but I was petrified of telling my father. I knew he wanted me to take over the Inn and I knew I didn't want that future."

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There was this huge blowout when I told him. He called me and your mum every name in the book and I did the same back to him. He said I was throwing my life away for 'some stupid tart,' and I said that I was better off without him and he just didn't want to admit to it.

"When my dad got angry, he held such a grudge. I never contacted him again because I knew he wouldn't talk back. I gave up, which I realize was stupid. When your mum passed away, I contacted David for the first time in years and he showed up for her funeral. It's the last time I ever talked to anyone in the family, which I know was also ridiculously stupid."

"If you know that, then why don't you fix things now?" I ask him. "I mean, you say life is short, so then why are you wasting all this time not talking to your family when you know you should?"

"I'm afraid, I guess," he admits. "It's been so long now…I'm afraid they won't want to speak to me."

"That's a bunch of crap," I say more forcefully than I meant to. "Of course they want to speak to you."

He sighs and I can tell that he's completely exhausted. "Can we talk about it later?"

I nod. "I'm going to let you get some sleep," I say. "See you later, Dad." I get out of my chair and give him a kiss on the forehead.

"Bye Lucy," he replies, his eyes already shut.

I walk out and it's the weirdest thing. I thought that after I got the truth, I'd feel more complete somehow, but I didn't feel much of anything.

I shake the feeling off and head back home, hoping the feeling will pass.


	19. A Confession

**Chapter Eighteen.  
**  
Owen is nowhere in sight when I return and the whole place is dead silent. I check Remy's room and notice she's gone too. Did they go someplace together? Did Remy kill Owen and drag him off into the dumpster?

Wow. I need to stop watching so many movies.

I sprawl out on the couch and turn on the TV, flipping through the channels. I'm bored of that already, so I just grab a magazine that's on the coffee table and flip through it before I hear the door opening.

Owen walks in and looks around before he steps all the way through, like he's afraid someone's going to jump out and kill him.

I laugh. "Remy isn't here, Owen." He jumps until he sees that it really is just me and I see his shoulders automatically relax. "She isn't going to pummel you with the rolling pin." I pause, then add creepily, "But I'd sleep with one eye open, just in case."

He rolls his eyes at me. "How'd it go?"

"Fine," I say. "He even told me everything I didn't know."

"So, you two are all right then?" I nod. "Good."

"Yep," I say, just to fill the silence. "Where have you been anyway?"

He sits himself on the couch next to me and says, "Sight seeing."

I raise my eyebrows. "Seriously?" He nods and looks at me with a look that says, "What?" I say, "What in the hell did you look at? The one whole four-way intersection? Maybe the gas station?" I thought he'd get that I was kidding when I said go sight-seeing.

He rolls his eyes. "The landscape around here is beautiful," he tells me. "You haven't even noticed before, have you?"

I shrug. "I guess I don't notice things I've been around for so long."

There's this long silence between us and I'm staring at the same page of my magazine for a good ten minutes before Owen shatters the silence with one little word: "Me."

I look up and give him a quizzical look. "What?"

"Remember when we were talking about you feeling overprotected and all that?"

"Yes…" I say, but I barely remember it at all.

"Well, I said that some people would kill to have someone looking after them, and you asked who. I'm saying me."

I wonder what made this pop into his head, but I don't question his thinking skills. "My parents barely talk to me except to nag me about the fact that I'm not dating anyone," he tells me. "My uncle's the only one that looks out for me at all, but even then…" He trails off, his eyes looking straight at the wall now.

I'm not sure what to say, so I just let the first words that pop into my head come out of my mouth. "That's not true. There's always me."

He looks over at me. "Yeah?"

I give him a small smile. "Hey, you're here for me right now. It's only fair, right?" I try to keep my words light, but at the same time, let him know that I really mean it. He gives me a smile, revealing his dimples.

"I am such an idiot."

"No kidding," I say with a laugh.

"Ha ha," he says sarcastically.

"Why are you an idiot?"

He purses his lips. "Because I let someone like you go."

_Oh boy_. My throat tightens when I attempt to say something, so I just sit there quietly, hoping that he says something to make the silence go away.

"Sorry," he says. "That was out of line, I know."

"Kind of," I say softly. I'm not sure what to do; my gut instincts are failing me now and they're not giving me a single warning or sign.

"Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

He looks nervous and that makes me nervous. "I'm getting out of line again, but…do you think you could ever give me another chance?"

"Who says you got a first one?" I make sure to smile so he knows I'm not completely serious.

He smiles. "I guess that's true. But…could you ever give me a first one?"

Part of me yells, "Hell yeah!" and the other yells, "Fuck no!" God damn my contradicting brain. "I think…I probably could," I finally say.

He smiles and both of us are starting to lean in and I know just where this is going to end up, but then the door is opening and we jump apart from each other like we'd just been shocked.

I fumble with the remote and turn on the TV so it seems like we were watching something when Remy walks in and says, "What are you watching?"

I glance at the TV and see that it's on the History Channel. "Um, a documentary on the Civil War," I guess as I turn to face her, when in all reality I have no clue what it is.

She eyes me suspiciously. "Lucy, you can't even stay awake in history class."

"Maybe that's why I'm watching this," I say.

She rolls her eyes. "You know what? For once, I don't want to know." With that, she walks out of the room and into hers. The door slams shut and Owen and I both look at each other and just burst into guffaws.


	20. A Drop Out

**Chapter Nineteen.**

2008.

"Lucy Wright?"

I sigh, turn myself around, and face my lit professor with a polite smile on my face. "Yes, Mr. Webber?"

"Do you realize how many assignments you've missed this semester?"

_Busted._ "Um, three?" I guess, but I know there's a much greater number involved. I haven't done any of my assignments this semester for any of my classes, and I haven't shown up for half of them anyway.

"Twenty-six," he replies flatly. _Holy hell; we had that many? It's barely the end of October! _

"Oh," I say. "Well, I've, uh, had a lot on my plate and---"

"Excuses," he says. "I don't want to hear them. Do you know what you'd have to get on the midterm to be able to pass this course at all?"

I'm afraid to answer. "A one hundred?"

He shakes his head. "A one hundred and seventy-six actually. You forgot to configure in your horrible quiz and tests grades."

My eyes widen. "Seriously?"

He nods. "Even double checked with the math professor."

What I'd like to say is, "So in other words, I'm screwed?" but instead I say, "Is there anything I can do to get my grade up?" _Please tell me there's _something.

"At this point, no," he says bluntly. "In fact, I suggest that you may as well just drop the course completely."

"But…then I don't get my credits." I'm starting to feel sick. I think I really, really, screwed this up. My dad's going to kill me.

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He doesn't care that I'm completely done for and why should he? It's my fault.

But…I just felt like there were better things for me to do than my homework. Plus, my head had been elsewhere all semester anyway, compliments of Owen Price. He's supposed to come visit me in the states after he has some sort of launch party for his band he's finally come up with. I haven't seen him since March, when he came up again for a weekend visit and I really miss him. I miss the way he's petrified of Remy still, even though she claims she doesn't hate him now that I am---yes---officially dating him since February of last year. I miss the way he kisses me. I miss the way he smiles. I miss the way he smells. I miss every stupid little thing about him and I hate that. I'm becoming that love struck teenager at twenty-one I never used to be able to stand.

But on the other hand, I love it too. I love the butterflies, the smile that's on my face almost constantly now.

"Lucy?" Mr. Webber says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I blush. "Is there something you need?"

"No. Sorry," I say quickly as I hurry up the stairs and out the door. I let out a big breath and bite my lip as I think of how in the hell I'm going to get myself out of this mess.

But, like always, my smile still remains.

----

"I'm sorry Miss Wright," my dean says, her voice not sounding exactly apologetic. "I'm not sure how to get you out of this mess without you being forced to just retake the whole semester."

My smile's gone now, replaced with a small grimace of disappointment. "But then I can't graduate with my friends…"

"Perhaps that's something you should have thought about before you stopped showing up to class and doing your assignments." She sifts through a file.

I purse my lips. "Thanks for your time," I say as I get up and make my way to the door.

"Mm, yes," is what the dean says back.

I'm a senior; I decided to screw up my entire college career as a fucking _senior._ I don't _want_ to retake my semester. I _want _to graduate with Remy.

No, wait. That's not true. I _want _to be in London right now. I still miss that place like mad and I haven't had the chance to go back since my dad's heart attack.

I miss Gran. I miss David. Hell, I miss Dulce at this point. I feel more at home in London than I ever did in New York and I miss that feeling.

That's when my dad's story about my mom pops into my head. My mom dropped out of college too and I'll bet if she was still alive, she'd be doing just fine…

_No,_ I force myself to think. _Bad idea, Lucy. Awful, ridiculous, stupid idea. _

I take a look around the campus and watch all the students rushing by and I second guess myself. Am I really happy here? Do I really want this life?

I have to stop thinking logically. Maybe I should listen to what I actually want, not what I_ think _I need.

Even if it means I wind up murdered by my dad.

----

"Lucy? What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Dad," I say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. "You know that's not how I meant that." He steps out of my way so I can come inside and then says, "So what is it that you need?"

"I don't need anything," I tell him. "Jeez."

He looks at me, confused. "So, then what are you doing here randomly on a Thursday afternoon?"

"Um," I say uncertainly, "I just thought you might want to know that I'm---"

My dad cuts in on me. "Oh, God. I think I know what this is about."

"You do?" Somehow, I highly doubt this, but I'd like to hear his theory.

"You're marrying that Owen bloke, aren't you?" His voice is verging on angry.

I start laughing at him. "What? No!"

He breathes out in relief. "Thank God. I mean, not that I don't like him, but I'd hate to see you throw away your future for some guy."

I stop smiling abruptly and feel incredibly nervous. Why did he have to say 'throw away your future' right then?

He sees my face and the relief that used to be on his face is gone right away. "What have you done, Lucy?"

I hesitate and purse my lips. "Don't get mad," I say.

"What have you done?" he repeats.

I run my fingers through my hair. "Well, uh, you see, it's a funny story…" I look at his face and say meekly, "Okay, it's not funny at all. In fact, it's pathetic."

"Oh, please tell me that what you're about to tell me will not give me another heart attack."

"Dad!" I say. I already feel guilty enough about his last one; if he does happen to have another one, I'd prefer to not feel like it's my fault.

"I'm joking," he assures me. "My heart's just fine. Now spit it out."

"I was failing all my classes," I say quickly.

"Was, as in, now my grades are back up again?"

"Was, as in I dropped out completely," I confess quietly, looking down at the floor.

I hear him clear his throat and then he says, "Dunno why I didn't see that one coming."

My head snaps up. "Huh?"

"You've never liked school," he points out. "How could I expect you to go an extra four years?"

"But…" I trail off and start again. "You're not mad?"

"Oh, I'm furious," he says, "but I know yelling at you isn't going to do any good. Were you happy?"

I shake my head. "Pretty miserable, actually."

"Well, then, I can't be mad that you're doing something that makes you happier."

I smile. "Thanks, Dad." I decide to go for it and tell him. "I want to move to London."

"Over my dead fucking body," he snaps back.

I'm taken aback by this. "What?" Quitting college is okay, but London is a no-no?

"You're not moving there," he orders. "No way."

"But you just said that you can't be mad at me for doing something that makes me happy," I point out.

"You just want to be closer to that stupid boy," he says.

"That's not it," I assure him. "I'm mean, yeah, it's a definite plus, but I don't like it here, Dad. I want to be there."

He purses his lips. "You're incredibly unpredictable, Lucy."

I shrug. "Gotta keep things exciting," I joke. "C'mon, Dad. Don't be mad at me."

He shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you," he promises. "Just…in shock."

"I'm sorry," I tell him.

He smiles at me. "Don't be sorry. You want what you want, and if you have the chance to get what you want, you should do it. Don't let me stand in your way."

What a mood shift. "Maybe you could come visit me…" I say, but there's a lot more to my words than that.

He catches on. "I can't face them," he says. "Not yet."

"You can't hide from them forever," I tell him.

He sighs. "I know," he says, "but I can try, can't I?"

----

Two weeks later, I'm back in London and I'm so thrilled that I think I might start flying around. I've forgotten just how much I love this city.

I'm walking around after dropping my stuff off at my new flat---David's promised me that it can be mine, as long as I pay the rent; after all, he didn't put all that time and money into the place for nothing---and I'm smiling like an idiot. I can't help it though; this place just has that effect on me. Course, talking to Owen---in person for the first time in a long time---seems to do it for me too. He offers to walk with me, but I decline, telling him that I just want a little time to take in the city by myself.

There aren't very many people out today and it's a lot easier to walk when you're not dodging people on the sidewalk.

That's when I feel something jumping on me and I look down and see that it's a dog. A very cute one, too. I smile.

"Hey, boy," I say, as I kneel down to pat his head. "Where's your owner?"

"Right here," a voice replies and I can hear the smile in it. It sounds familiar, and I bring myself up slowly to put a face to the name.

_Well, hell, _is what I think when our eyes meet and I realize who it is. "Hey, Danny."


	21. A Dog

**Chapter Twenty.  
**  
He looks different, older, but he does still look good. His smile is just the same as ever and his eyes still sparkle with mischief like I remembered. I can't help but smile at the familiarity of it all. It's nice to see that some things don't change.

"You like dogs?" he asks as he bends down to put the leash bag on his dog.

"Yep," I reply. "I always wanted one, but my dad was allergic."

"Ah," is all he says. "I don't think you've been properly introduced," he tells me and it takes my brain a second to realize what he means. "Bruce, Lucy. Lucy, Bruce."

I laugh a little as I say, "Nice to meet you, Bruce," and Bruce barks back and licks my leg. I really do love dogs and Bruce seems to keep my mind off the fact that Danny and I have some sort of history, no matter how brief (and embarrassing) it may be.

"How you been?" he asks casually.

"Good," I tell him, the smile still plastered on my face. "Amazing actually."

He smiles. "That's great," he tells me and I know he means it.

_No kidding,_ I think. "How about you?"

"Not too bad," he says. "The band went through a little bit of a rough patch, but it's all better now."

"Good," is all I can think to say to fill the emptiness. What I do say to Danny, comes out easily without any stuttering or mixed words, but it's trying to find something to say without it becoming awkward is hard.

"Dating anyone?" I ask and I wish I had bitten my tongue. Right off. Why did I say that? Oh, God, now he probably thinks I'm interested in him. And I'm not. And then we'll have a very awkward goodbye. And I don't want that. I don't want any awkwardness period.

But, I should know myself better than that; awkwardness should've been my middle name.

"Not seriously," he answers as he scratches his chin. "How about yourself?"

"Um, yep," I say quickly. Why does it matter anyway? It's not like we were ever a really big serious thing.

So then why am I acting like I'm talking to an ex right now?

"He's a lucky guy," I hear him whisper and I wonder if I'm supposed to hear that. I don't even look at him, but I do stare intently at my feet, which Bruce is now licking. I bend down and give Bruce one last pat and then I stand up and say, "I should probably be going."

I watch Danny open his mouth and reach for something, then snap his mouth shut and bring his hand back to his side. "You know," he says, "we really should stop meeting like this."

I shrug. "Well, maybe you can stop by my uncle's Inn sometime," I suggest and I instantly regret it. This is so not a good idea. What am I thinking? _Stupid, stupid, Lucy. _

He gives me such a smile though, that I can't help but stop regretting inviting him and then I tell him where it is. He's a nice guy; who cares if I had a drunken one night stand with him once and he turned out to be famous and then unknowingly made me a tabloid star and is also the enemy of my current boyfriend.

_Ah, hell. _

----

Dulce is behind the bar when I return from my walk and she scowls at me. I roll my eyes; how can she still hate me after all this time?

"Your friend called," she informs me. I must look confused because she says, "You left your phone on the bar." Sure enough, she picks up my phone and waves it around before she chucks it at me. It fumbles in my hand, but I manage to get a good grip on it before it slams on the ground.

"Thanks," I say halfheartedly as I shove the phone in my pocket.

"Your friend's really something else," she says, sounding annoyed like always.

I nod. "She wouldn't be Remy otherwise."

I'm heading up the stairs to my flat when my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I sigh, knowing it's got to be Remy, and I have a feeling she just feels like randomly bitching at me for leaving her in the states.

I thought my dad would take it bad; I didn't even think about Remy.

Reluctantly, I answer. "Hello?"

"Jeez, dude," she complains. "Do you _ever_ answer a phone the first five times I call?"

"Sorry," I say. "What is it that you need to tell me?"

"Nothing," she says. "I just wanted to see if you made it there okay."

"Well, I did," I say.

"Good," she replies. Why is this feeling like the Danny conversation all over again. "So…have you found a new best friend yet?"

I roll my eyes. "Remy, relax. No one's replacing you."

I hear her snort. "That's what all my old best friend's said."

I sigh. "Well, I'm pinky swearing."

She fakes a gasp. "No!"

"Yeah," I say, not so enthusiastically. "I mean, granted, it's kind of difficult to do over the phone, but…"

"I'm going to come visit you soon," she promises. "Maybe around Christmas since my parents have decided to ditch me for the Bahamas this year." I'm picturing her rolling her eyes and moving on. "So, what do you think?"

"Think maybe you could convince my dad to tag along with you?" There's no way I can afford to go back to the states by Christmas yet; the Inn doesn't pay that well, especially not when you're a waitress like me. And I want to see my dad during the holidays.

"Honey, I'm no miracle worker."

I sigh again. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm just going to have to guilt trip him then."

"Hey," she says abruptly. "I was just checking out the tour dates for that band that signed my boobs a few summer's ago and guess what?"

I play along, but I already know what she's going to say. "What?"

"Right around Christmas, they're going to have a show!"

"No way!" I say with fake enthusiasm as I roll my eyes.

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm," she tells me.

"Well, _I _don't appreciate you trying to set me up with Danny when I'm with Owen," I tell her. I know her scheme; she's so transparent to me.

"I see you still know his name." I hear the smirk in her voice.

"So what?" I retort. "I still know my fifth grade teacher's name too and I don't see you trying to set me up with Mr. Evans."

I hear her sigh. "Mr. Evans and you didn't have a 'one night stand'---did you?"

"Damn, you've caught me."

"Okay, look," she says like she always does before she gives me a speech. "I'll admit it; I'm not Owen's number one fan, but I'm not trying to break you two up so you can get with Dylan."

"Danny," I correct automatically, but I know she did that on purpose.

"I just want you to see him again and really take a closer look at him," she continues. "I think you might be a bit surprised."

"How do you figure?" I ask, not wanting to bring up the fact that I've already seen him today.

"Just trust me," she says.

"Last time I did that, I wound up at his concert, embarrassed and awkward," I point out.

"The concert's not set in stone or anything," she assures me. "I'm just saying." There's some shouting in the background and I hear Remy yell something back. "Gotta go," she says, sounding aggravated. "My professor's getting pissed."

"Remy!" I say. "You were talking to me in the middle of class?"

"Yeah," she says like it's nothing. "So?"

"Nothing, Remy," I say. "Bye."

"Bye," she says back, and then I hang up.

_Oh, that girl, _I think as I start laughing quietly to myself. _She sure does make life more entertaining. _


	22. A Celine Dion Obsession?

**Chapter Twenty-One.  
**  
Okay, fine, I admit it; I can't stop glancing back at the Inn's door, thinking that Danny might come bursting through them. But it has been almost a week since I've told him to come around sometime and I wonder if maybe I've scared him off a bit or something…

_Oh well,_ I try to convince myself. _Not that big of a loss anyway. So what if you never see him again?_

I keep telling myself that every day, but every day, I glance right back at that door until I think I'm going to give myself whiplash from turning my neck so much.

God, why do I care at all? It makes no logical sense. I have Owen, and I do love him (even if I haven't _said it _exactly) but…

But nothing. There's nothing to this. I've just got to shake him from my thoughts completely and drown him out with thoughts of Owen.

So far, it's working just fine …as long as I avoid the door.

----

"Here," Owen says as he comes into my flat that same night, throwing a piece of orange paper at me. I look down at it and start to read it.

"A Halloween CD launch," I say. "Very clever."

He sits himself down next to me on the couch and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "Do I sense sarcasm?"

"No," I insist. "I'm just not a fan of Halloween, I guess."

He looks at me with shock. "Who doesn't like Halloween?"

I raise my hand. "I've never really liked it, even when I was younger."

"But…" he starts, "there's candy, and wicked costumes, and candy!"

I laugh. "Sorry to break your heart, Owen."

He shakes his head. "I guess I'm just going to have to break up with you."

I nod. "I understand. You can't date someone that hates Halloween, like I can't date someone who likes Celine Dion."

"Hey, I only like one song!" he defends.

I just look at him for a second and try to suppress my laughter. He starts to turn pink. "I…I never told you I liked her, did I?"

"Nope," I say, my voice five octaves higher than usual because I'm trying so hard not to laugh. "Not so much."

He purses his lips and then says, "Well, I brought over a DVD," obviously trying to change the subject.

"Celine Dion in Concert?" I guess. He will never live this down. I just hope he never finds out about my Ricky Martin obsession…

"Ha ha." He takes the DVD that I just realized is in his hand and shows me. "Indiana Jones," he tells me. "The one with Shia LaBoeuf so you can drool."

I smile. "You're just too sweet," I tell him. "Maybe I'll lay off the Celine Dion jokes…for tonight anyway." I smirk wider and he smiles back at me, his dimples showing.

He gives me a quick kiss on the lips before he gets up to pop the DVD into the player and I can't believe my luck. I've got an amazing (and cute) boyfriend, who listens to Celine Dion (but I'll overlook that), makes me laugh and smile like a fool, and has an incredibly cute butt.

What? I'm only human and he's bending down right in front of me.

I'd be an idiot to think about screwing this up with so much as a friendship with Danny. I'd be more than that in fact; I'd be a humongous, gigantic, idiot.

I look at the screen and see Shia on the screen. _Now, for _that _guy on the other hand…_

----

"Why won't you just tell me what your costume is?" I say to Owen. It's the night before the party and I'd like to know if we're going to be completely clashing or not. I don't want to come as something like Cleopatra and have him come as something like a member of Kiss.

"I want it to be a surprise," he tells me. "Don't you like surprises?"

"Usually, no," I say. "In fact, they kind of scare the crap out of me."

He smiles. "You're so cute when you're being all serious."

I stick my tongue out at him like I'm six. "You're incredibly annoying."

"Thank you," he says and he pulls me in and kisses me. When he starts to run his hand up my back underneath my shirt, I pull away and give him a look. "Sorry," he says. "Got carried way."

Okay, so I haven't slept with him yet; sue me. I'm not that easy…well, except for the unspeakable night with He Who I Will Not Mention in Fear of Jinxing Things.

Man. He needs a code name with less syllables.

At least he's cool about it, unlike other guy's I've dated.

We keep kissing but this time he's the one that pulls away. "Shit!" he says and he's running to the door.

"What?" I ask.

"Forgot that I had rehearsal today," he says quickly as he pulls his shoes back on. "Man, they're going to kill me if I'm late again."

"Again?" I say.

"Okay, so my memory's not the best," he tells me. "See you tomorrow night!" he calls and I groan at the thought of it.

For some reason, I hate Halloween now more than ever.


	23. A Kiss

**Chapter Twenty-Two.  
**  
"What am I supposed to wear?" I ask Remy on the phone. I'm freaking out right now; I have an hour till the party and still have no clue what my costume is going to be.

I should really stop putting off things.

"Relax," Remy soothes. "What's Owen going as?"

"He won't tell me," I say. "He wants it to be a surprise."

"Oh," is all she says to that. She knows I'm not a huge fan of surprises either, especially not after my dad surprised me with my hidden family.

"How about…Mary Jane?" she suggests.

I raise my eyebrow. "Who?"

"Don't tell me you haven't seen Spiderman." There's a pause before she says, "You haven't seen Spiderman?"

"I'm not huge on movies," I say. I mean, sure, I know what Spiderman looks like, but that's about it. "Who's Mary Jane?"

"Spiderman's girlfriend," she explains. "She wears normal girl next door clothes and all you have to do is wear a red wig."

"Where am I supposed to find a red wig?" I say, but at this point, I'd dye a mop and put it on my head. I have to show up in some sort of Halloween get-up.

"Beats me," she says.

I sigh. "Thanks anyway," I tell her. "I'm going to let you go and go wig hunting." Wow. Never thought I'd say that.

"All right," she says. "Have fun."

"Don't count on it," I grumble.

"Oh yeah. I forgot you hate this particular holiday."

"Yeah, well, I'll suffer through it," I say. "Bye."

"Later."

----

Ten minutes later, I'm dressed in some typical girl next door attire and heading out the door. I'm hoping that either David or Dulce happens to know of a costume shop nearby.

When I get downstairs, I notice that Dulce just so happens to be wearing a red wig, and I'm surprised someone as bitter as her actually gets into Halloween. Then again, she can dress up as what she truly is: a witch, or I guess more accurately tonight, a devil.

"Dulce," I say, "where did you get the wig?"

She looks at me funny. "Why?" She's filling up a few glasses and I only just now realize how jam packed this place is tonight and with people dressed up as all sorts of things.

"I'm just curious," I say. "Any place nearby?"

"Got it online, if you want to know," she says, her eyes narrowing at me. "Why?"

"I'm curious," I repeat. "What? You're the only one that can ask questions?"

She lets out a breath of air, exasperated. "How much?"

"Huh?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "How much are you willing to give me for this wig?"

Damn, she's good. "How much do you want?"

"Your tips," she tells me.

"For how long?"

"The next two months."

I sigh. That's where half of my money comes from. I'm going to waste half of my salary on a stupid wig that probably wasn't worth a cent. "Deal," I say begrudgingly. She takes off the wig and hands it over to me.

I can't believe it; I just made a deal with a devil.

----

I didn't notice the tacky silver sparkles in this freakin' wig until I got to the party and there was no time to run off and get another one. Besides, I just sacrificed my tips for this stupid thing. I'd wear it every damn day till the deal was done if I could do that without looking nuts.

The place is crowded and I feel claustrophobic. Everyone seems to be grinding against each other to the DJ's mix of some old eighties anthem with a modern rap song. I really just want to get out of here, or at the very least, find someone I know.

But the only person I know is Owen and I have no clue what he's wearing. I sigh and head over to the refreshment table to grab some punch. I sit down at a table and sip at it absently, letting my eyes wander around the room for any sight of him.

"Where is he?" I wonder out loud, knowing that no one is going to hear me anyway. It's way too loud.

I finish off my punch and go for seconds. I sit back down at my table and wait…Still no sight of Owen. On my third glass, I look down at my watch and notice that I've been here twenty minutes.

I'm rubbing my eyes and then I put my elbows on the table and lean my head against my hands. I've been here twenty minutes too many.

That's when I peek up and notice a hand that's extending towards me. I sit myself up straight and who am I staring at but Spiderman.

I can't help but smile at the coincidence. Turns out the costume thing worked perfectly. "Owen?"

He nods. I raise my eyebrows. "Why aren't you talking?" He doesn't say anything and I say, "Is this some weird superhero thing?" He nods and his hands still extended. I take it and roll my eyes at him. "You are such a weiro." I see him shrug.

He leads me out towards the restrooms and he's going for the exit now. "Where are we going?" I ask, confused.

"Trust me," I hear his muffled voice say. At least he's saying something now.

I let go of his hand. "My dad always told me not to trust guys that dress up like Spiderman then lead you into alleyways."

I bet if he didn't have that mask on, he'd be rolling his eyes at me. "Come on," he says, his voice still distorted and hard to understand.

I grab his hand and he opens the exit door. We're standing on the stairs and I'm leaning against the wall. "Okay, seriously, what's the purpose of this?"

He sighs and pulls up his mask just enough to expose his lips.

"Don't tell me you led me out here just to show me your lips," I say with a smile. He takes a step closer and I notice his hand is shaking at his sides. Since when is he nervous? It's not like we've never kissed before.

He takes my chin and lifts it up and his lips meet mine. There's something different about this kiss than the others we've shared; there's more of an edge to it, an urgency, like he's trying to prove something to me. And it's making me more…worked up; my heart's beating so loudly, I swear I hear it in my ears.

I go along with it and as I start to pull off his mask, he pulls back suddenly as if I shocked him and I notice a tingling feeling in my lips. I crumple my brow and he pulls the mask down, not a single part of his face visible anymore.

"Owen, what---" I start, but he cuts in.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs and takes off, leaving the party completely. Where is he going? It's _his_ party!

I think about chasing after him, but decide against it; he needs space. So I head back into the party and grab my coat so I can leave; no sense in me sticking around when Owen isn't.

"Lucy!" I hear a familiar voice call out. I turn around and see Owen standing right in front of me. And he isn't dressed up as Spiderman.

"Hey," I say, trying to make my voice even. "Where have you been?" _Because you certainly weren't with me…_

"Sound check," he tells me. "We're going to be performing pretty soon. What about you? I've been looking for you for the past ten minutes."

_Well, funny story Owen,_ I want to say. _I actually thought I was with you, but it turns out I wasn't, and I wound up making out with some guy and I don't know who he is. Ha ha?_

"Bathroom," I lie. "I drank too much punch." _Okay, Lucy, he probably didn't need to know_ that_ little fact._

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asks curiously as he takes a bit of my wig in his fingers to examine it.

"Mary Jane," I tell him. He raises his eyebrows at me. "What? I told you I'm not big on costumes." I eye his costume and ask, "Who are you anyway?"

He's wearing what looks like a custodian outfit. "I'm Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting," he tells me.

"Who?" I really need to watch more movies that aren't crappy horror flicks.

"Never mind," he says. "Let's dance!" he says enthusiastically as he grabs for my hand. I let him take it, but all I can think of is Spiderman when I do. A slow song comes when we step onto the dance floor and he pulls me closer. I rest my chin on his shoulder and try and forget that I just unknowingly cheated on my boyfriend.

I mean really, who _does_ that?

I can't help but wonder who this Spiderman is. I'd kind of like to know who I was making out with back there.

That's when my eyes glance over and I see three guys in various costumes talking and something in my head clicks.

_No, no, no,_ I think over and over again. _It can't be him. And maybe that's not his friends anyway. _

I take one more look at the group of guys and one of them catches me looking over and waves at me and a gut feeling tells me that what I'm denying is the truth.

Fuck.


	24. A Plan

**Chapter Twenty-Three.**

**Danny  
**  
I'm walking around with Bruce since the sidewalks are practically deserted today when his leash latches off of his collar. He looks up at me at first, like he's waiting to see my reaction, and then he books it down the sidewalk.

"Bruce!" I yell. I knew I should've bought a better leash. This isn't the first time this has happened.

I'm chasing him down the street and when I turn the corner, I see someone bent down petting him. He licks them as they say, "Hey boy. Where's your owner?"

_Holy shit,_ I think, stunned at the voice I swear I've heard before.

"Right here," I say and she slowly brings her head up to look at me. Her lovely eyes look at me for a moment as she takes me in.

She gives me a very small smile when she says, "Hey Danny."

It's Lucy. It's really her. I actually didn't think I'd ever see her again (although I still carry her wallet around with me) especially since I hadn't seen her since that run-in at the airport where she just brushed me off. I smile brightly as I take her in. She looks basically the same as ever, her hair the only thing that's really changed at all.

"You like dogs?" I ask. I hook the leash back up on Bruce and give him a pat on the head. I owe Bruce big time for this.

"Yep," she says, looking down at Bruce. God, I love her accent. "I always wanted one, but my dad was allergic."

"Ah," I say in response and I'm at a loss. I want to keep her here with me for as long as I can, but I'm not sure how. "I don't think you've been properly introduced," I say and she gives me a funny look for a second. "Bruce, Lucy. Lucy, Bruce."

She starts laughing and it's the greatest noise I've ever heard. "Nice to meet you, Bruce." Bruce barks back and licks her leg. Her smile grows and I get more nervous.

"How you been?"

"Good," she replies. "Amazing actually." Her smile still remains and I know she isn't just saying this.

"That's great," I tell her with a smile, trying to let her know that I mean it.

"How about you?"

"Not too bad," I tell her. "The band went through a little bit of a rough patch, but it's all better now." There was a point in time where we couldn't write a single piece of good music and we were all incredibly cranky for months about it.

"Good," she says. There's a silence between us before she breaks it by randomly asking, "Dating anyone?"

I find the question odd, but answer anyway. "Not seriously." And it's the truth. I haven't been able to find anyone that I'm as drawn to as her. I know it's stupid, especially since all we had was one night that wasn't even anything romantic, and another random encounter here and there, but I just can't give up on her, as dumb as it may be. "How about yourself?"

She looks uncomfortable. "Um, yep." Her words are rushed and she's looking down at her feet now.

_Of course she's with someone, _I can't help thinking. _Why wouldn't she be? I guess I'm too late…_

"He's a lucky guy," I whisper under my breath and I wonder if she hears it. When I look at the corner of my eye, she's petting Bruce again and she says, "I should probably be going."

What I should say is, "Okay, bye," and I almost do; I even reach for her wallet. But I realize I can't do that because that's like giving up. And I don't want to do that. I bring my hand back. It's a stupid theory, but maybe if I keep the wallet, it means I get to see her again.

"You know, we should really stop meeting like this," I say instead.

"Maybe you can stop by my uncle's Inn sometime," she tells me and I start to smile. Maybe she doesn't want to give up on us either.

She tells me the directions and we say our goodbye's and I'm still grinning from ear-to-ear with a new found hope.

----

"Dude, you're thick," Harry says. "You honestly think that because she invited you to her uncle's Inn, that she _wants_ you?"

I roll my eyes. "Your optimism always stuns me," I say, plucking at my guitar absently.

"Are you going to go?" Tom asks.

"Eventually…" I say.

He looks at me skeptically. "You're such a chicken."

"Hey!" I say. "I said I was going to go, didn't I?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, _eventually._ Why are you so afraid? If you really think she's 'the one' or whatever, then why don't you just go for it?"

"Well, first off," I say, "I don't want to come off as a psycho by showing up at the Inn straight away. And secondly, she's seeing someone."

"You're trying to get a bird that has a guy already?" Harry says. "You're mad."

"I had her first!" I point out and I realize just how childish I sound.

"And you couldn't keep her around for more than a night," Harry points out. "And when you had other opportunities, you blew those. Obviously, she was just trying to be nice."

"What is with you today?"

"Nothing," he insists. "I didn't sleep much last night, all right?"

"Catherine kicked him out last night," Tom says. Harry throws a drum stick at him and Tom narrowly escapes it. "What? It's the truth!"

"I told you not to tell," Harry mutters, looking embarrassed, which is weird. It's not like he's the first one to get kicked out for a night. It's become a trend with Dougie for the past three weeks off and on.

"What did you do this time?" I ask.

Harry sighs. "Something about coming in too late or something."

"Well, how late did you stumble into the flat?"

"Four thirty."

"That's nothing!" I say. "Did you tell her about that time you came in at seven?"

He nods. "She wasn't amused."

"Catherine never did have much of a sense of humor," Tom points out. "Remember that time Dougie had those water balloons."

I hide my laughter from the memory. "I thought that was funny."

Harry scratches his chin, his thinking face on. "Mate," Tom says, noticing the look as well, "stop dwelling on this, all right? She'll take you back."

"I'm not sure I want her to," he says. He lets out a deep breath and says, "At any rate, what is your master plan to win this girl over Danny? Surely you weren't planning on using your charm."

I purse my lips. "Haven't thought much about that yet," I admit. "I was just kind of planning on showing up one day and telling her."

Tom and Harry glance at each other for a moment and I say, "What?"

Tom speaks up. "Your plan's a bit…"

"Weak," Harry finishes. "You haven't thought of any grand plan that sounds so absurd that there's no way it's going to work?"

"Well…no."

"Nothing?" Tom says, sounding surprised. "Not even a Boom-box-over-the-head-playing-a-cheesy-eighties-song plan?" I shake my head. "Wow. I'm impressed."

"Less _is _more, guys," Dougie chimes in. We all turn to face him; he's been so quiet we almost forgot he was there. "What? Why else do you think chicks love me? I'm not all in-your-face, unlike you guys."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Then what do you suggest for poor, desperate, pathetic---"

"Enough with the adjectives already!" I interrupt.

"Simple," he says. "Go to the Inn---in a few days, so you don't seem desperate, but also so you don't seem uninterested---and just talk to her, no romance at all."

"That sounds boring," I say.

"And it sounds more like he's entering the friendship territory," Harry adds in. "Which, he so obviously does not want to be in."  
"Yeah, sure," Dougie says, "but he can't just go out and say, 'I love you!' now can he? Might as well become friendly with her somehow."

"I don't love her," I say. "I'm not that mental."

He rolls his eyes. "You mean to tell me you're stressing over this girl that's got a guy and you don't love her?"

"Yeah," I say simply. "I mean, I definitely feel something there, but I don't love her. Yet."

"Whatever," Dougie says. "I'm going to Sam's." He puts his bass down and walks over to the door. "Coming?"

Tom yawns and stretches his arms out. "I'm good tonight, mate." He gets up and stretches some more. "I'm going to bed and then when I get up in the morning, I'm going to write us a new hit single." He says goodnight and walks away.

Harry gets up and heads over to Dougie. "I'm definitely in. No way I'm getting into my flat tonight anyway."

"How 'bout you Danny?"

I hesitate. "Nah," I decide. "I think I should probably get to bed myself." I feel like I've been up for days.

"You sure?" I nod. "Mate, you're getting boring."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles. "Just saying."

"Can we go now?" Harry says impatiently.

"Please go," I tell Dougie. "I think Harry needs to get plastered tonight."

Harry narrows his eyes at me for a second, but I know that's what he's been thinking. Maybe it will take that pole that's been up his ass all day out.

They leave and I go back to plucking at the strings on my guitar, thinking too much for my own good. Maybe I _am_ crazy; maybe this whole thing I think I have with Lucy is ridiculous. And I should probably just give up right now.

But I know I can't do that. There's this bit of me that's telling me not to quit, and even though there's another whispering that I really have gone mad, I'm ignoring it. I'm taking a chance.

Because maybe, I'm not crazy at all; maybe there really is something there. And I intend on finding out.

----

I'm pacing outside of Mitchell's Inn, wondering if this really is such a bright idea. Maybe she was just being nice, like Harry suggested. Maybe she doesn't actually want to see the guy she thinks she had a one night stand with. Maybe I'm over thinking this.

_Just do it, _I think. _How hard is it to go in there and just talk to her?_ My hand hovers by the handle for a moment and I finally just twist it. When I walk in, the place is packed and I wonder if I'll ever find Lucy here.

I head on over to the bar and see a girl with a scowl on her face filling up glasses. I'm a bit afraid to ask her if she knows where Lucy is; she seems all but pleasant.

"What do you want?" Her voice barely masks that she's bitter and she doesn't smile.

"Um, do you know where I could find Lucy?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'd like to talk to her," I say. I'm feeling intimidated right now with how she's looking at me.

"Why?"

"Because I do."

"That's a really shitty reason," she tells me.

I sigh. "Can I please speak to her? It's important."

She rolls her eyes. "Sure it is." Some guys are yelling at her from the other side of the bar and she groans. She pulls something out of her back pocket and says, "Here. That's where she is. Might want to get going though."

"Thanks," I tell her, but she's already walked off. I look down at the piece of paper she's handed me and see that it's a Halloween CD release party for some new band I haven't heard off.

Looks like I'm going to have to find a costume.

**----  
**


	25. A Costume

**Chapter Twenty-Four.**

**Danny.  
**  
"Mate, why in the world do you have so many costumes?" I'm holding up Dougie's dress from the Transylvania video and he chucks the wig at my face. "Did you steal this?"

"I like to role play, all right?" Dougie replies.

Tom is digging through a box of "props" and dangles a pair of cuffs on his finger. "You don't say." Harry starts to laugh.

Dougie snatches the cuffs from Tom and chucks them back into the box. "I've only got five costumes in here right now," Dougie tells us all. "I lent some of them out."

I don't even want to know who he's lending them out to. "So, what are my options then?"

"That," he says, pointing at the dress, "but I don't suggest that one. And then I've got a pirate outfit, a maid's---oops, that's not supposed to be in there, never mind---Spiderman, and a wizard outfit."

I think about my slim options for a second before I say, "Spiderman, definitely."

"Ah, excellent choice," he says, slipping it off the hanger and throwing it at me. "Now then, who wants the pirate outfit?"

"You guys don't have to come," I tell them. "It's fine, really."

"Hell no," Dougie says. "I'm not missing this; besides, I want to dress up."

I watch Harry rolls his eyes. "By the looks of things, you do that quite often."

"Yeah, but not in public."

Tom says, "I'll take the wizard one, I suppose."

"Okay," Dougie says. "And Harry, you can wear the dress---"

"What?"

"Hey, it's only fair," he says. "They're my costumes."

"Then why does Tom get to be a wizard?" he complains.

"Well first off, he called it. And if you _did_ wear the wizard outfit, I'd just make puns about Harry Potter all night."

Harry rolls his eyes. "I hate you guys."

"Come on, Harietta," I tease and I throw the wig at him. "Suit up; there's no time to waste."

----

"You know, Dougie made a much prettier woman than me," Harry mentions as we pull up to the party. I can hear the music from here.

"Shut it, Harietta," Tom says.

"Stop calling me that, would you?" Harry snaps. No one says anything after that. We head to the doors and after I show them the invitation, the bouncer lets us in. There are so many people here that you can hardly see the floor. Harry keeps tugging at his dress uncomfortably and when a group of girls come by and snicker at him, he starts to complain again.

I tune him out and look around the best I can; it's pretty hard to see with this mask on my face and it's hot too. I can't wait to find Lucy and get out of here for some sort of air.

My eyes land on the refreshment table and that's when I see her; she's getting some punch and looking uncomfortable, like she doesn't really want to be here. It's obvious she doesn't really like Halloween; she hasn't taken much of an effort to dress up. I wonder why she's here anyway; does she know someone in the band or something?

I see her sit down and decide to go for it; I start walking towards her and I'm getting more nervous with every step. She'll think I'm a psycho probably, showing up at a party she's at.

But there's no time to think about that now; I'm standing right in front of her and she's got her face in her hands, her bright red wig acting like a curtain. I stick my hand out in front of her face and hope she notices.

She does. She smiles at me and I smile back even though I know she can't really see it. "Owen?"

_Owen? Must be the boyfriend…? _I don't know what else to do, so I nod, but I instantly regret that decision.

"Why aren't you talking?" she asks curiously._ Because it'll give me away,_ I think. "Is this some weird superhero thing?" I nod. She rolls her eyes at me and takes my hand, which is when I realize just how shaky I really am. "You are such a weirdo," she says.

I just shrug and try to figure out what to do. I'm so hot right now and all I really want is to get some fresh air. So I start leading her to the exit. "Where are we going?" she asks me.

"Trust me," I say and I bite my tongue for speaking. But the mask makes my voice sound different anyway, so I think I'm good.

She lets go of my hand and crosses her arms. I'm getting shakier and hotter as we stand here. "My dad always told me not to trust guys that dress up like Spiderman then lead you into alleyways," she says.

"Come on," I say more forcefully than I mean to, but she doesn't seem to notice or mind because she takes my hand and I lead her outside, glad to finally get some sort of fresh air.

She leans against the wall and says, "Okay, seriously, what's the purpose of this?"

I want to take the mask off right now, but I can't do that now. I've already blown my chance with her, but I don't want her to know it's me all the same. Still, a part of me needs to get out of this mask, so I pull it off as far as my lips. I feel better already even though I'm still shaking.

"Don't tell me you led me out here just to show me your lips," she says, smiling.

I do what comes to mind first. I take a step closer to her and lift up her chin to kiss her. In that moment, I forget that she's got a boyfriend, and I forget that she _thinks_ I'm her boyfriend, and I forget everything else except for her and me.

My lips feel like they're on fire, but in a good way, and the moment is amazing, until she starts to reach for my mask.

I pull away instantly and pull the mask down completely. "Owen, what---" she starts and I cut her off.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. What am I thinking? That was one of the dumbest things I'd ever done. I run off the stairs and head around the corner, pulling off my mask and taking a deep breath. I run my hand through my sweaty hair and lean against the wall. People that pass by look at me curiously and I ignore their stares by shutting my eyes.

That's not how I wanted that to go. In fact, I wanted to just tell her right off that it was me, but I chickened out. Of course.

I purse my lips and decide to head back to the car. When I'm in, I find my phone and call Tom and Dougie first, since they wouldn't be so critical of me, but their phones are in the car too. I decide to call Harry and he picks up on the second ring.

"Where are you?" he yells over the noise. "Your girl's with some other bloke!"

_Must be Owen,_ I think and even my thoughts sound jealous. "I fucked up again, Harry," I tell him, a sadness coming through my tone that I meant to disguise. "You were right."

There's a pause on the other end for a minute before he finally says, "No, I'm not. I'm just a bitter pain in the ass right now. Where are you anyway?"

I'm a bit surprised at him confessing this, although it is obvious he's trying to change the subject now. "The car."

"'Kay," he says. "We'll be there in a second."

"Thanks," I tell him and I hang up, leaning my head against the seat. I tap my fingers on the dashboard as I grow impatient quickly. I really just want to get out of here.

"Hey, mate," Dougie says, sliding into the backseat. "Didn't go well?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

"Sorry man," he says. "Maybe next time?"

I keep shaking my head. "I'm not doing this again."

All of them look back and forth at each other and then at me for a minute before Tom says, "Seriously? You're giving up now?"

"I wore a goddamn _dress_ for you," Harry says. "You're getting the fucking girl if I have to kidnap her."

I laugh. "Thanks, Harry, but…" But what? I don't want her anymore? That's certainly not true. "Maybe it's just a lost cause," I finally say.

"Look," Tom says, "I wasn't sure if I should mention this or not, but you know that bloke that was going to be the drummer for McFly originally?"

I have to think about this a second before it finally clicks. "Vaguely," I say. "Why?"

"Well," Tom says, hesitating. "Doug and I both think he's the guy Lucy was with."

That prick? "Are you kidding me?"

He shakes his head. "It's his band," he explains. "They're not that bad actually---" Harry hits Tom in the arm and he shuts up about the band. "Anyway, it looked like him."

"Wait," I say. "Was that guy's name Owen?" He nods and the only thing I can say is, "Of course."

I purse my lips and let out a deep breath. Owen is such a conceited, ignorant, little asshole, and I have a lot of doubt that he's changed his ways. Why is Lucy with him?

It's a good thing that Tom's the one driving or else I might have driven us off a cliff with the rage I'm feeling right now.

"You know what?" I say randomly. "You guys are right; I'm not going to give up just yet."

I refuse to lose Lucy to a guy like _him._ No way in hell am I letting that happen.

Looks like I'm going to have to up my game.


	26. Another Article

**Chapter Twenty-Five.  
**  
**Lucy **

I've spilled all of my orders over me and unsuspecting costumers (some of which actually did deserve it, but I swear it wasn't on purpose) because I'm distracted. And I don't believe I need to clarify what that something is that's got my brain completely frazzled.

The more I think about it, the more stupid I feel. What kind of person just automatically believes a guy in a Spiderman suit when they say they're your boyfriend? And what sort of moron kisses said Spiderman only to find out it's not their boyfriend?

God, I hope it was Danny and not some guy with tongue fungus or something. I shudder at the thought and Dulce gives me a weird look. "Cold chill," I say. She just walks away completely and continues doing what she's doing.

I think I saw his friends, but I'm really doubting myself. I mean, one of them was dressed as a woman for God's sake. And there was one that looked like a wannabe Jack Sparrow and the other looked like he was supposed to be Dumbledore (yes, Owen's made me watch both of those movies). And how did they get into the party anyway when it was invitation only and I know there's no way Owen would invite a single one of them.

I sigh. I suppose there's no way that I just completely dreamed the whole predicament up is there?

"Why don't you take a break?" David suggests. He's helping me wait on table after he saw me trip on air and fling an order all over the place.

"I'm fine," I insist and that's when I trip over my own feet. "I'm just---I'm just a bit distracted."

He looks at me with disapproval. "Are you drinking on the job or something?"

"No!" I say. "I'm just a naturally clumsy person." He should know that by now anyway.

"Take the rest of the night off," he tells me. "Go to bed or read a book or something."

I sigh and start untying my apron, knowing there's no way to win this battle. I hand it to him and he takes it and says, "How much did you make in tips?"

"Zero," I say. And that's the truth. I think Dulce might be thinking that I'm sabotaging my tips because she gets them for a while, but it's really just an added bonus to the clumsiness.

I think about going up to my room, but decide against it. I need to move around for a bit, to clear my head a bit.

I haven't been walking for more than two minutes before the click of a camera catches me off guard. Right in front of me, there's a woman with a camera and she just keeps clicking it over and over again. I roll my eyes. Paparazzi.

I try to walk past her and all she does is follow me. "Hey," I say. "I'm not that interesting, all right?"

She puts down the camera for a moment to say, "Oh, yes you are. Do you have any idea what a picture of you is going for right now?"

_I'm guessing a lot._ "Look, I know that because I'm dating Owen Price now, I'm a new thing to write about in your papers---but then again, that's not true because you guys have already written an awful lot of blatant lies about me haven't you?"

I don't really know why I'm taking out all my frustration on a random paparazzi, but I'm doing it. "You think _that's_ why you're so interesting, Lucy?"

Great, now they know my name. It's really too bad; I was getting quite fond of Mystery Woman. "Why else would I be?"

She starts laughing and I don't know why. I take this as an opportunity to get past her and I hear her camera click one last time before I walk away.

What the hell was that about?

----

I'm walking up to Gran's flat when I realize just how late it is. My dad, who's in his fifties, goes to bed at eight---on a good night. It's almost ten o'clock now and my Gran's seventy-something, so that must mean she goes to bed before seven. Still, I really want to talk to her since I haven't seen her in a while and my selfishness takes over.

She answers her door on the second knock, so I assume she wasn't actually asleep. I breathe out in relief.

She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes showing even more. "Lucy," she says. "How great to see you!"

I smile brightly back. "Great to see you too, Gran."

"Well, come on in, love!" She really does sound ecstatic to see me. It's great. "No sense just standing out there."

I do what I always do when I show up at Gran's; I head straight to the kitchen and then she makes me tea that I choke down as politely as possible as we chat about random things.

"How's Owen?" she asks casually.

"Good," I say. "He's working a lot at the studio right now, trying to get the band's first single done before January, so he's a bit stressed."

She slowly nods her head. "Is everything going well with the band then?"

"Yeah," I say. "They all get along pretty well by the looks of things, so…" I trail off. The truth is I have no clue if everything's well with the band. Owen doesn't tell me much about it.

"Dear," she finally says after a minute of silence, "I don't mean to pry, but there's something I'd like to ask you."

For some reason, this makes me nervous. "All right," I say. "What is it?"

She hesitates before she gets out of her chair and looks through a pile of papers before pulling one out and sliding it over the table to me. I notice the brand as one that claimed I was carrying Danny's love child in 2006. Does everyone read the gossip magazines in this family?

I start to read it out loud. "'It appears like the love triangle between Owen Price, Danny Jones, and the Mystery Woman (that we now know as Lucy Wright) is still going as strong as it did a few summers ago.'" I stop reading and look up at Gran.

"Read on," she says. "It gets better."

So I do. "'As many of you already know, Owen Price had a CD Launch for his new band on Halloween. His new bird, Lucy, was invited, and it appears that they've had some party crashers.

"'Our insiders first spotted Harry Judd wearing the getup from their music video, Transylvania. Tom Fletcher wore a wizard outfit, while Dougie Poynter sported pirate gear. Danny was disguised as Spiderman and we only discovered his identify after he pulled off his mask completely after snogging none other than Lucy Wright (who was wearing a tacky red wig as a costume).

"'We were unable to photograph said event, but we trust our loyal readers to take our word. The question is, will Owen?'"

I put the paper down. I'm not sure whether to be relieved that they didn't get a picture of us together, or pissed off that they wrote this in the first place. It's got to be far less reliable without a photo anyway which means there's no way people will completely believe it right?

But Gran did show me this, so she must think I've done it. What kind of person does she take me for anyway?

Well, at least it does explain what that paparazzi was talking about; a "slut" that's seemingly cheating on her famous boyfriend with her famous boyfriend's enemy that is also famous would make for a good front cover photo for the people to just eat up.

I sigh. She looks at me expectantly and it's the weirdest thing. I'm not mad at her for wondering if this is true; it's probably because I'm pretty sure it is.

"Honestly?" I say. "I'm not sure."

She looks at me with a peculiar expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I did kiss a Spiderman at that party," I confess, "but I didn't know it wasn't Owen." She's still giving me the look. "He didn't tell me what he was going to be and then this guy dressed as Spiderman came up to me and claimed to be Owen so I believed him, and then I wound up kissing him and finding out straight after that it wasn't Owen and I was worrying the whole time that I kissed a hobo or something." I'm impressed with myself; I said that all in one breath.

Gran just sits there and blinks for a few seconds, trying to take in my run-on sentence I said in record time. Then she finally says, "Wow. Got yourself into some trouble haven't you, Lucy?"

I sigh. "Apparently so."

"Are you going to tell Owen?"

I purse my lips. "It sounds like the right thing to do…"

"But?"

"But it didn't mean anything," I tell her. "And it really was an accident."

She's nodding her head as I speak and then says, "That may be true, but if it really didn't mean anything, why can't you just tell Owen that?"

I never answer.


	27. A Tour

**Chapter Twenty-Six.**

I wonder if Owen's already seen the article. I wonder if Owen would really care if I told him the truth. I wonder if I'm going to have pizza for lunch or spaghetti. I wonder if Gran has any idea what to do about this. I wonder if I have ADD.

Owen bursts through my flat door (looks like I forgot to lock the door yet again; I swear, I'm going to get robbed) and he might as well be skipping and whistling by the way he's smiling and walking towards me.

"Owen, what---?" I start but he sweeps me up into a hug and spins me around a couple of times as he laughs. I join in, but when he lets me down, I start to stumble around have to lean on a chair.

"What's up with you?" I ask.

He's still grinning from ear-to-ear. "You wouldn't believe it," he says. "We're going on tour!"

"Tour?" I repeat. "I thought you were going on one next week anyway?"

He's shaking his head. "This one's different," he tells me. "That one was completely local. This one's a European tour."

"Wow," I say, not really sure what else I can say. "That's big, isn't it?"

"Huge!" he says. "It's amazing!"

I smile, but only because he's smiling. "When do you leave?"

"Thursday."

I count the days in my head. "Two days?" I say. "That's, that's when you leave?" Oh God, now I'm stuttering.

He notices that I'm not exactly thrilled now and his smile fades. "Oh, Lucy, I'm sorry," he says as he gives me a kiss on the forehead. "It'll only be for three months---"

"Three months!" I exclaim. "Holy hell dude, do you have any idea how long that is for someone like me? I can't even sit through a half hour of a show because I think it's too long!"

He's looking at me like he's trying to find out if I'm joking or not. "Well…this is really huge for us, Lucy…"

"I know," I say, trying to keep my tone at a normal level. "I'm sorry. It's just…" I sigh and try again. "I'm going to miss you."

He smiles. "I'm going to miss you, too, Lucy."

"It's your other girlfriend isn't it? You're going away to be with her?" I make sure my tone is sarcastic, just in case he thinks I'm for real.

He rolls his eyes. "Yes," he tells me. "Her name is Eleanor and she wears costumes every single day. She's quite a riot."

"Oh, I bet," I say and he pulls me in for a hug. "I love you," he whispers as he slips his chin under my head. It's the first time that was ever said out loud.

"Love you, too," I mutter into his shoulder. I contemplate telling him that I kissed another guy, but I bite my tongue. Why ruin a perfectly good moment?

I'd tell him. Eventually. Maybe.

----

"I'm sorry, you _what?"_

I sigh and sit down on the edge of my bed. "Do I really need to repeat myself Remy?" I just told her all about the Halloween incident and she appears to like torturing me.

"Yeah, I think you do," she says. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," she says. "The Lucy I know wouldn't be this stupid."

I roll my eyes. "How many Lucy's do you know, 'cause I think you've got me confused with another one."

"All right fine," she says. "I know you've done some pretty stupid things, but come on!"

I sigh. "I know, okay?" I've been saying the same thing to myself ever since it happened.

"Why'd you tell me anyway?"

"Because I thought you'd like to know," I say simply. "You always want to know."

There's a pause. "Yeah, but…"

"What?" I finally say when I know she's never going to finish that sentence. "Just go ahead and tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't know," she admits. "Why didn't you tell Owen anyway?"

Ah, that question has been eating at me more and more, especially since he left yesterday morning. "I was afraid he'd flip out."

"But it didn't mean anything to you."

It's not a question exactly, but I answer it anyway. "No."

"So, then why can't you tell him?"

Why does everyone ask me the same freakin' question? "I told you already," I strain. "He would flip out and I know it."

She sighs. "No, you don't."

"I think I know my boyfriend."

"Yeah, sure," she says, "but people can surprise you."

Yeah, no kidding. "Look, I've got to go," I say. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," she says. "But you might as well not tell Owen now anyway."

That catches me a bit off guard. "Huh?" I say lamely.

"Well, the longer you wait to tell him, the more angry he will be about it, and at this point, you won't tell him till, like, New Years, and that means you kept it from him for two months. He's going to think it meant something, although it meant nothing, therefore ending in a very painful breakup."

I take a second to take her theory in. "I guess you do have a point…"

"Of course I do," she says. "Now then, I will talk to you later."

"All right," I say. "Later."

I had called Remy for some advice, hoping that when she said something a light bulb would go off and I'd be like, "Oh! What a great idea!"

And what do I feel like instead? "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

I can keep it from him forever and feel guilty about it, or tell him (which will take me a good month to get the courage to do) and more than likely lose him completely because he probably would think it meant something.

Well, hell.


	28. A Backstage Pass

**Chapter Twenty-Seven.  
**  
_December…_

I love snow. Which is weird, because I love summer and I'm not a fan of the cold either. But there's something about snow that just makes me so…excited. Plus, when I was a kid, snow would equal Christmas, so maybe that's where it all started.

I'm catching these fat snowflakes on my tongue as I'm walking around town like I've been doing every day since Owen's left. I'm not really sure why his absence has made me want to walk more, but I'm not one for over contemplating…well, at least, not that particular subject.

I'm practically skipping when I come into the Inn later that night to work. And my mood instantly goes through the roof when I see Remy sitting at the bar, having an argument with Dulce over who knows what.

"…all I'm saying is, you could be a bit nicer," Remy mentions.

"And all I'm saying is, you could be far less annoying," Dulce says. "If you're not going to order something, I suggest you leave---"

"Lucy!" Remy jumps up from the bar stool and runs over to me and gives me a hug. I laugh and say, "Hey, Rem."

"Your cousin," she says in a low voice, "is a bitch."

I laugh more. "I told you so."

"So, you surprised to see me?"

"Yeah," I admit. "I thought you weren't supposed to be coming in till next week."

She shrugs. "I got bored." I love that she can just take off and go whenever she pleases. I wish I had the financial freedom to do that myself.

She starts staring off straight ahead so I say, "Remy?" Her eyes glance over to me for no more than a second and she says, "Isn't that the guy that signed my boobs?"

I turn around on my heel and sure enough, there's Tom, all by himself, looking around the Inn like he's completely lost.

His eyes lock on me and he gives me a small smile, revealing his dimple, and he waves. I return it and turn around to Remy. "What the hell is he doing here?" I whisper to her.

"How the hell should I know?" she says back. "I just got here." She looks over at him and bites her lip. "Talk about fate."

"Remy!"

"What? He walks in here and I just got here. Obviously, something's meant to happen between us."

I roll my eyes. "That's all anything ever comes down to with you, isn't it?"

She looks at me like I've got three heads. "Lucy," she says. "All you have with Dylan is fate. How can you say that?"

"Danny!" I correct, my voice much louder than intended. It's a good thing the Inn's so busy no one can really hear me over the voices of everyone else.

She casts a smug smile at me which I choose to ignore. "I'm just saying," she starts, "that everything happens for a reason. It's not all freak coincidences you know?"

I sigh. "Sure," I agree, but just to shut her up. I don't need anymore "fate" talk from her. I think I've heard enough. "So why don't you go over to Tom then and have a drink."

"Okay." She doesn't even hesitate. She goes on over there, pulls up a chair right next to him and there they are, talking to each other, looking like they've known each other for years.

Remy is so fearless. I wish I had some of that. It'd certainly come in handy for telling Owen about the incident with Danny…

----

"No, Remy. Please."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," I whine. "Don't make me go."

"It's because you're embarrassed about that kiss thing aren't you?" I don't say anything, but only because it won't help me. I'm not embarrassed…exactly. "I didn't tell Tom a thing about it, Lucy. Danny won't know that you know unless you tell him."

_Great,_ I think. _Another secret._

Remy is making me go to another McFly concert, probably because it just went so damn well the first time. She knows I don't want to see Danny again and she knows that things will be awkward between us, and she knows I hate lying, and she knows seeing Danny will make me feel more guilty about lying to Owen about the whole thing, and she doesn't even care.

"Look," I say, "I'm really happy that you and Tom hit it off, but why do _I_ have to be tortured?"

She rolls her eyes. "It is not torture."

"Yes it is," I assure her.

"You call _me_ a drama queen," she mutters. "You're going and that's that."

"What are you, my dad now?"

She shrugs. "If it makes you go to the concert, then yeah I am."

Looks like I've got no choice now, do I?

----

I've been highly contemplating making a run for it. After all, Remy's not even here right now (she's backstage with Tom and she didn't drag me along with her so that can only mean one). I could leave and take the wrath of Remy later.

But here's the thing: I can't bring myself to do it. My feet feel like they're permanently glued to the floor right now.

"Hey, Lucy." I jump right out of my skin. I swear, I'm the jumpiest person alive sometimes.

"Jeez, Remy," I say. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry," she says. "Show's about to start in a minute," she tells me, as if I really care about that.

And just like that, the lights go down and then the drums start up. I'm suddenly freaking out. I am so petrified of seeing Danny and I'm not even exactly sure why.

The lights come up on all of them and I'm staring straight at Danny. He's giving me that smile as he plays his guitar and I chew absently on the inside of my cheek. Why am I acting like this?

I swear I can feel his eyes on me when he's up there, but I could just be acting all paranoid. Still, I look down at my feet for most of the show. Does Danny know I know it's him? And so what if he does? What's he going to do about it?

I'm beating this to death and I know it.

Every so often, I look up at Remy who is completely entranced with Tom. It's barely been a week since she met him but she's infatuated.

At the end of the concert, Remy turns to me and says, "That was amazing!"

"Yeah," I agree halfheartedly.

"Tom and I were, like, undressing each other with our eyes for the whole show!" she continues. "Amazing!"

"Mm," I say and just as we're about to escape she says, "I have backstage passes you know."

I sigh. "And I'm guessing there's no way of me getting out of going backstage with you?" I remember the last backstage encounter and really hope she says that it's fine if I skip.

"Nope," she says. "You're definitely going."

_Fantastic._


	29. A Drunk Dougie

**Chapter Twenty-Eight.  
**  
There's a lot of shouting coming from the dressing room and Remy and I exchange confused glances as we get closer. "You sure we should even knock?" I ask. "We could wind up being witnesses to a murder."

Remy rolls her eyes and knocks. "I think we'll be safe."

"Okay, fine, but if I have to become part of the Witness Protection Program, I'm blaming it on you."

Tom answers the door at the same time I hear a towel whipping. He smiles when he sees Remy and he looks over at me and gives me a polite smile. "Ladies," he says, "can you give us a moment?"

Remy and I nod in unison and the door shuts. More shouting ensues and I'm really starting to wonder what in the hell Remy's gotten us into.

"Seriously," I say, "can I go home?"

"You don't want to go home and you know it," she says. "So be quiet."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, you're right, Remy. I'd love to be a part of the madness and towel whipping."

"We're going back to Tom's place," she tells me. "I'm sure they'll stop with the towel whippings by then."

Another snap of a towel is heard from the other side of the door and then everything is quiet. "Well that was strange," I comment.

Tom comes out of the dressing room first and gives Remy a quick peck on the cheek. I see Remy blush and I smile at that. You couldn't get that girl to blush if you told all of her most embarrassing secrets to a room full of hot men while she's standing there wearing Power Rangers underwear and singing Mary Had A Little Lamb.

Dougie and Harry both try to go through the doorway at the same time and get stuck arguing there for a minute before Tom pulls Dougie by the elbow and he almost collides with the wall.

"All right then," Tom says. "Let's go."

There's no sign of Danny anywhere and I want to ask where his is, out of pure curiosity, but I know Remy will give me that look and that speech later, so I never do. Besides, it doesn't really matter. If anything, I should be thanking the Remote Controller on deciding to give me a break.

But Remy does ask. "Where's your other band mate?" We're walking down the sidewalk right now with Remy and Tom up front leading the way and me sandwiched between them and Dougie and Harry who are arguing over something I don't really care to know about.

"He's feeling kind of ill," Tom informs her as I eavesdrop. "Decided it was best if he stays behind."

It's the weirdest feeling that comes over me right then. I can't quite put my finger on it, but after thinking on it for a minute, I finally figure it out:

Disappointment.

----

We're playing Battle of the Sexes and the boys are losing by a long shot. Remy is an expert of cars (thanks to her dad) and I'm an expert on all things sport related (thanks to mine). The only one the boys get right involve Disney princesses, and that's only because Tom seems to know a whole lot about them. But they're really cool guys regardless of their freakish knowledge on that and I'm finding myself having a really great time and not regretting going backstage.

We're coming down to the end of the game now and everyone has had more than a few drinks at this point, except for me. I'm never getting drunk near any of these band members ever again, just in case.

"All right," Tom says, holding the card in his hands. "Let's see if you can get this one. What is the name of the Star Wars spacecraft?"

I know the answer to this (also thanks to my dad) but Remy beats me to the punch and screams, "Starship Enterprise!" as proudly as can be.

I look over at Tom and I swear a little piece of him just died. I start laughing hysterically, along with Harry and Dougie, and tell Remy, "It's the Millennium Falcon, kiddo!" between my fits of laughter. Remy and Tom are the only straight-faced ones in the room and that makes me laugh even harder.

"Sorry," Remy says. "I've never seen the Stars War before."

Tom's jaw drops completely and he says, "Star Wars," slowly and he shakes his head. "Oh, the things I need to teach you."

"Mate, relax," Harry says as he puts a hand on Tom's shoulder. "It's only Star Wars."

Oh, no he didn't. "Only Star Wars!" Tom says as he gets up from his chair. He's definitely the most drunk out of all of us. "Star Wars is the best film ever made in the history of…history!"

I try so hard to stop my laughter, but it just gets worse and worse and my abs start hurting. Maybe I drank more than I thought.

"You're lucky you're amazing," he tells Remy, "or I'd have to give up on you."

"Right back at you," she tells him as she gets up and goes toward him. "What do you say we cut this game short?" She runs her finger down his chest seductively and I feel incredibly awkward seeing that.

Harry protests. "But we're almost done!"

"Yeah," Dougie says.

"Um, guys," I say, "I think we should go."

"But why?" Dougie slurs. Maybe _he's_ the drunkest? "I don't want to!"

I'm dealing with children right now. "How about we all go to that sweet shop down the street and get some candy?" I suggest.

Dougie's eyes light up. "Anything we want?"

I laugh. "Sure."

"I'm in," he says, getting up and standing next to me. "How about you, Harry?"

Harry's a bit more hesitant---and sober---than Dougie. "I think I should get going," he says. "Catherine's angry enough with me as it is."

"Oh, dump the stupid cow!" Dougie says. "She's such a bitch, Harry."

Harry ignores his comment and says, "See you guys later. And nice to officially meet you, Lucy." He's out the door before I can say goodbye or question him at all. Nice to officially meet me? Does that mean Danny talks about me?

Dougie's tugging on my shirt. "Can we go get the sweets now, Lucy?"

"Sure," I say. "Bye---" I start to say to Remy and Tom, but they've already left. Guess they don't waste time.

"Lucy," Dougie whines. "Come _on."_

"Sorry," I say. "Let's go."

----

I make Dougie wait outside which might not be the brightest idea, but neither is letting a drunk that's acting like he's five head into a place full of candy either, so I tell him to stay right where he is five hundred times and then I head in and buy a variety of all of it.

When I come back outside, Dougie is still sitting on the bench, but he's got his phone out now and he's dialing. That can't be a good sign.

I sit down next to him and say, "Who are you calling?"

"Danny," he says simply. My stomach lurches.

"Why?"

"'Cause," he slurs, "he can bring me home."

"Why don't you just have a taxi come and get you?" I suggest as I grab for the phone.

He shakes his head and pulls the phone away from me. "I don't know the address right now," he says. "Me thinks I got a bit too drunk."

_Me thinks so too._ "Isn't there someone else you can call?"

He looks at me and asks, "Why?"

"Because…Tom said Danny was sick," I say quickly. "He probably doesn't want to come out here and pick you up."

"That's…not it," Dougie says between a sudden case of hiccups. "You just…don't want to…see him…after what…happened."

"After what happened?" I ask. Does he know everything?

He nods. "You know…the Halloween fiasco."

So it definitely _was_ Danny. I can't decide if I should be relieved or more upset about that.

"I was a pirate," he tells me. "I'm a mighty sexy one, too."

I laugh. "I bet."

He smiles at me and says, "I can see…why Danny likes you. You're cool."

This makes me blush. "So about calling him…"

"Oh yeah," he says. "I forgot." Great. I just reminded him. He starts to dial again and he's got the phone pressed to his ear. I want to knock the phone away from him the moment he slurs a, "Ello," but I stop myself.

"I'm stuck at the sweet shop by Tom's," he tells Danny. "Yeah, I am pissed. Why?" There's a pause before Dougie says, "Well, you said you were ill…maybe you shouldn't make stuff up then."

Make stuff up? Did he fake sick just to get out of seeing me? Why does that upset me?

"Could you please come get me?…I don't know where I live…Please?…I love you, Danny. You're a brilliant---right, sorry. Okay, bye."

He hangs up and says, "He's coming for me."

"Okay," I say and I get up from the bench. "I guess I'll see you---"

He pulls down on my hand and drags me back down to the bench. "You are not going anyplace, Lucy," he says. "You can't leave me alone. I might get murdered."

_Right, like I'm really going to be able to stop a murderer,_ I think. "All right then," I say. "I'll stay here till he comes."

And this I can't blame on the Remote Controller because I have a choice---sort of. The question is, is it a bright one?

My gut refuses to tell me one way or the other, so I guess that means it doesn't know either.

Guess I'll find out soon enough.


	30. A Ride

**Chapter Twenty-Nine.  
**  
Danny pulls up fifteen minutes later and looks surprised to see me. I'm guessing Dougie didn't bother mentioning I was here.

I look down at my hands like I'm completely fascinated with them. Hey, has my pinky finger always been so crooked? Huh.

I can feel the bench move as Dougie jumps up to greet Danny. I take a break from my crooked pinky to see Dougie giving Danny a huge bear hug. I smile and Danny glances over at me and smiles right at me.

Crap. I hope he didn't think that smile was because of him. Because it wasn't. I find my cheeks growing warmer and I curse myself. I wish I was like Remy more than ever in that moment. She wouldn't have blushed unless she really, really liked him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were keeping poor Lucy here hostage?" Danny asks Dougie once his bear hug is over.

He leans in to whisper something in his ear, but I can hear it from where I am: "Thought you might want to see her again since you've been going on about her for ages."

I act like I didn't hear a thing. "Um, I'm going to go now," I tell them as I get off of the bench. I only then notice just how freakin' cold it is outside. And icy at that. Great.

"Thanks for protecting me from murderers," Dougie says with a crooked smile.

"Don't mention it," I say and I pat him on the shoulder as I move on, slipping a little on the ice. _One foot in front of the other,_ _Lucy_, I think. _Don't slip. Don't slip._

"Hey," Danny's voice calls. "You need a ride?"

"I'm all right," I yell back. "I'll just call a taxi."

"Taxis don't really run this late in this weather," he tells me. "After all, it's three in the morning right now."

I sigh. "Then I'll walk." And that's what I'm doing. I keep getting further and further away from him, but his voice doesn't sound like it is.

"You sure about that?"

Okay, now I'm annoyed. I swiftly turn around, catch my balance and say, "I am perfectly capable of walking thank you very much!"

And that's when I slip and land straight on my back. Frick.

I hear footsteps coming towards me and I take my hands and clasp them to my face and groan. Double frick.

"Hey," I hear Danny say, "are you all---"

And then he slips too and lands right on my legs. "Ow!" I yelp. "What the f---"

"Guys!" Dougie screams from what feels like another country. "Guys, come on! It's really dark outside! Come back!"

I'm tired and I'm hurting and I'm still a bit buzzed and I think that's the real reason I start laughing hysterically just like I had earlier at Tom's. Danny joins in shortly thereafter and I notice how much I love his laugh. It's different and musical and contagious. I can't stop.

"Guys, please get up!" Dougie whines. I know he's much closer now. "Please, before a hobo comes up and stabs me!"

I've completely lost it at this point. I can't believe what I'm doing right now. I'm in the middle of a sidewalk, my back is throbbing, Dougie is whining like a three-year-old, and I have Danny Jones still laying his head on my legs. This is such a ridiculous situation.

"Is he always this paranoid when he's drunk?" I ask Danny breathlessly. My abs are killing me.

"Yeah," he says. "I'll probably have to go home with him, too, in case someone comes and attacks him."

Dougie is hovering over us now, his arms crossed. "Can I go home now?"

This time, I manage to bring myself up. "Sorry, Dougie." I try and shake Danny off of my legs---never thought I'd say that---and he starts to bring himself up too.

"So," Danny says, "you sure about that ride?"

I'm looking him straight in the eyes and he's still got that---I hate to admit this, but---brilliant smile on his face and he's looking at me expectantly. I bite on my lip and wait for my gut to say, "Run away as fast as you possibly can right now," but it never says a word. Why is it failing me now?

Owen pops into my brain when I open my mouth and guilt takes over. "I don't think so…"

"Oh, come on, Lucy," Dougie says, "just take the man's offer. He's desperate."

"Thanks, Doug," Danny mutters sarcastically as he gets up. He holds out his hand and helps me up. "I don't really like the thought of you wandering the streets alone," he tells me. "Besides, it'd take you a while. You'd slip and fall every ten seconds."

I sigh and bite on my lip. "Why not," I finally say. "Couldn't hurt worse than that, right?"

He smiles. "Right."

"Can we go now?" Dougie says, leaning in closer to Danny and me. "I think that man over there is staring at me funny."

I glance over at where Dougie pointed and see a statue of some British soldier. I roll my eyes. "Yeah, okay, let's go."

I'm dropped off first and Danny insists on walking me to the Inn's door. "Sorry about Dougie," he tells me.

"It's fine, really," I tell him. "It was quite entertaining actually."

He laughs softly. "Yeah, it can be sometimes." Then he adds, "Sorry about landing on your legs, too."

I shrug. "If I turn out to be paralyzed, I'll just sue you. No big deal."

He smiles and opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then he snaps it shut. Why does he always do that?

"Well, goodnight," I murmur quickly as I fumble for my keys.

"Yeah," Danny says. "Night."

I get the key in, open the door, and turn around to see Danny still looking at me. "What?" I ask nervously.

"Nothing," he says. "I…I just got a bit lost in thought."

Both of us jump at the sound of his car horn going off. I look and see Dougie banging on the glass and Danny rolls his eyes. "Better go anyway," he says. "Doug's going to lose it any second now."

"Too late," I say with a smile.

"Night," he says again.

"Night," I say and I turn back and head into the Inn.

There's no way in hell I'm going to sleep after this.


	31. A Party

**Chapter Thirty.**

Spending Christmas surrounded by family felt weird to me. I'm so used to it just being my dad and me (and sometimes Remy if her parents were out of town) so this whole thing was new.

I didn't even know what to get them for presents since I barely even know most of them except for Gran, David, and Dulce (who, by the way, didn't give me a thing after I gave her something nice).

I always imagined what it'd be like, too, to have this whole big family to share the holidays with, and all I really wanted was to be with my dad. Well, Gran, David, his wife and kids can join in too.

When I call my dad later that night, he sounds sad and that makes me feel guilty for sticking around here---not that I can afford to go anywhere. He tells me that "It's fine, really," but that doesn't help my conscience. I suggest, not so subtly, that he should come and visit me sometime. He just grumbles something about me "pushing my luck," or something and I drop the subject.

I love Christmas, but this time something's missing and it's not my dad. I don't really know what it is, but it's not right.  
Really, things haven't felt right for a while and I still can  
't find the root of the problem. Is it because Owen's gone? Or---and I could just kick myself a hundred times over for even wondering this---is it because of Danny?

_No,_ I think defiantly. _That's not it at all. Nuh-uh. _

And that's what I keep telling myself for the next few days and things were generally boring, even with Remy around. Course, Remy's time was now being consumed by Tom, so she isn't around to help create shenanigans for me to get into.

Correction actually. She wasn't around to help create shenanigans. After all, my Remote Controller must be kept entertained, right?

----

New Year's: an excuse for everyone to get wasted before they get their clean slate for the next year that they swear will turn out better. But, of course, it never works out that way, so they keep swearing to make things better the year after that and the year after that and it's just this never ending cycle of broken resolutions and booze.

What's not to love?

Remy comes into the Inn on New Year's Eve, a huge smile on her face, and I'm automatically suspicious. I know that smile and it's often associated with mischief.

"What are you planning?" I ask.

She looks at me innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Lucy," she says. "No idea at all."

"Mm-hhm," I mumble. "Seriously, what are you planning and can I help?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm honestly not planning a thing," she promises. "But I was wondering---"

"Oh man," I say, "this should be interesting."

"Shut up please," Remy says, not so politely. "But I was wondering if you'd like to come to a party with me."

"Does it involve Tom?"

"Yes."

"Harry?"

"Yep."

"Dougie?"

"You betcha."

"Will he be drunk?"

"Sure as hell hope so."

"And how about He Who Shall Not Be Mentioned For He's Bad News For Lucy?"

She looks at me for a second before saying, "Huh?"

"Danny," I say, exasperated. "And I know you knew that; you just feel like torturing me."

She rolls her eyes again. "You had fun last time didn't you?" That means he's definitely going to be there. Fantastic.

"Danny wasn't there last time," I point out.

"He was after," she reminds me.

I knew I shouldn't have mentioned the ice incident. "Still," I say, but I have nothing else to say after that. Really, what do I have to worry about? I love Owen, Owen loves me, and Danny is simply a mistake of the past. That keeps creeping back into my present. Over and over again. But that's mostly Remy's doing anyway. Sometimes.

Okay, fine. I admit that I need to stop blaming things on other people. Habits are hard to break, all right?

"Fine," I finally say. "When do I have to go?"

"Right now," she says simply.

"Remy, come on!" I say.

"What?"

I sigh. "Could you give me more than three seconds notice next time?"

She laughs. "Relax, Lucy. Jeez. You are so getting wasted tonight."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," she assures me. "You need to stop being so uptight."

"I'm not drinking," I tell her.

"You're not going to sleep with another member of the band if you get drunk," she says. "Calm down, will you?"

"Okay," I say. "I know I'm being a drama queen and I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "It's about time someone took the crown from little old me," she says. "Now hurry up and get ready."

I look down at my outfit which is a pair of decent jeans and a t-shirt. I don't really see a problem with this at all.

Remy does though. "Oh no," she says. "I don't care that you are taken, you're not showing up to a party like that. Come on; I'll help you out."

I roll my eyes. "Great," I say. "I've always wanted one of those clichéd teenage makeovers."

----

"Remy, _please_ don't make me wear those."

"Why not?" She's holding up a pair of four-inch heels (very skinny heels, might I add) and she's already forced me into this red dress (and I feel way too overdressed for freakin' New Years; I didn't get this dolled up for prom) that doesn't even have straps. I smell disaster already.

"Wearing those shoes would be basically like committing suicide," I tell her. "You know I can't walk in _sneakers!"_

She sighs. "Do you want to look nice or not?"

"No!" I say, my voice high. "I really don't!"

"Wear the freakin' heals, Lucy Wright," she commands as she chucks them at me. My fumbling fingers catch them and I sigh.

"Whatever you say, boss," I murmur and I slip them on.

"All right," Remy says, "let's go!"

I slowly walk to the door and my ankle gives out on me and I land on the floor face first. I lay there for a minute until Remy says, "Oh fine. Wear your damn sneakers with the dress. I don't want you to break your neck."

I smile into the floor. At least something's going my way.

----

I keep tugging at my dress every three seconds and Remy keeps casting me these annoyed glares._ Hey,_ I want to say, _you wanted me to wear the dress._

We make our way up to Tom's flat and strangely enough, I hear no chaos on the other side of the door.

Some girl opens the door that I've never seen before. Remy raises her eyebrow in suspicion and I know that she's thinking it's Tom's woman. Remy may be a cool person who's pretty laid back, but my God, is she a jealous person sometimes.  
The girl smiles warmly at us and flicks the blonde hair from her eyes. "Ello," she says, her voice just as friendly as her smile. "You must be Tom's friends."

"Tom's _girl_friend actually," Remy corrects. Oh please Remy. Don't get into a catfight right now.

The girl nods her head. "Right," she says. "Remy?"

Remy nods and the girl says, "Tom hasn't shut up about you since any of us got here." I watch Remy's shoulders relax. "And you must be Lucy?" she guesses, still smiling.

I nod and return the smile. "Oh, silly me," she says. "Come on in." She steps out of our way and gestures for us to walk right in. I scan the place quickly and see that no one's in sight. Seriously, where in the hell is everyone?

"Everyone's in the other room playing Halo," she says. Holy frick, she's a mind reader isn't she?

"Um," Remy says, "I don't mean to sound all rude, but…who are you?"

I roll my eyes but the girl laughs. "Right. Sorry. I'm Tess."

"And you would be…?" Remy drawls.

"Forgive my friend," I say. "She's got a curiosity disorder."

Tess is still smiling. "Don't worry about it. I'm Catherine's sister." Remy stares blankly at her and she says, "You know, Catherine, Harry's girlfriend." More blank stares. "I've been set up by her, I'm afraid. And Catherine's word goes."

"Set up with who?"

"Oh, jeez, Remy," I whisper through gritted teeth. "She's not on trial here."

"Danny," she answers. "I'll admit I was hesitant at first, but he really is quite fit."

Remy looks over at me like she's expecting me to pummel her to the ground or explode or something. "What?" I mouth. She rolls her eyes and says, "Well, that's nice."

"I suppose," Tess says casually. "Doesn't really speak to me much though."

Remy's giving me that look again. I pretend I don't see it and say, "Maybe he's just a bit shy," I tell her.

Remy snorts. Okay, fine, maybe Danny being shy seems a bit out there.

Before this whole thing can go any further, someone stumbles out from the other room and starts yelling. "For fuck's sake, can we please play something el---Oh, hey Lucy. Remy."

Dougie is standing in front of us and for some reason he's blushing. "Hey Doug," I say. "Nice to see you've sobered up since the last time I saw you."

He gives me a small smile and I'm pretty sure he's blushing more. Wonder if he remembers all the stuff he did?

My money's on yes.

"I'm glad you guys are finally here," he says. "Maybe the party can actually start now!" he shouts, probably so the other guys can hear him.

A head pops out of the bedroom and it looks almost exactly like Tess. "Hey, Cat," Tess says. "Going to come on out?"

She looks like she has a perpetual scowl plastered to her face. How does Harry put up with that? She creeps out of the room and comes to stand next to Tess with her arms crossed.

Like they say, every party has a pooper.

"Who's the tart?" she asks nodding at me. Okay, now I'm pissed. This is the second time I've been called a tart and I'm really, truly sick of it already.

"Excuse me," I say, "but I do believe the tart has a name." I've forgotten what it's like not to bite your tongue. Sure hurts a lot less.

I don't know what's come over me, but I'm suddenly ragingly mad. Anything that's made me pissed off is about to blow up right now.

Oh, the poor bitch has no idea what I'm capable of, does she?  
"Lucy," Remy whispers, pulling me back by the shoulder a little bit. She does know what I'm capable of.

"Catherine," I hear Tess whisper to her sister and I notice she's doing the same thing Remy is. This should be interesting.

"Fine," Catherine says, shaking away from Tess's grasp. "Nice to meet you," she says coldly.

"Hm," I grumble back. Remy's still holding me back.

Then Catherine does something really, completely, stupid. "Don't see what Tom sees in that other little twat." She whispers it loudly enough for us to hear.

Remy lets go of me now and I can see on her face that she's that close to pouncing on her. I stay back for now and watch.

"Okay, that's it," Remy snaps. "I don't know who you think you are, you little bitch, but I dare you to utter one more little word at me. Go ahead."

There's a stare down for what feels like quite a few minutes before Catherine says, "What? You mean like…bint?"

I've picked up more slang than Remy has, this much is obvious, because Remy just raises her eyebrows at her. I step over and whisper, "It's kind of like a whore, Remy." She gasps and I have an odd feeling to laugh.

I can tell Remy's about ready to punch her, because her hand is a fist at her side. If I were a good person, I'd stop her, but I'd much rather watch her get decked instead.

I don't even realize anyone else is around until Harry says, "Catherine, come on!"

I look around and see that all the boys are here now, gaping at the scene, hoping for a girl fight. "Harry, stay out of this."

"Yes, please do," Remy says. "I just want one---"

Catherine catches us all off guard and whacks Remy with her fist right on the nose. Remy is taken aback completely and Tom rushes over, constantly asking if she's all right.

And all over again, I'm right back to being pissed.

"That is _it!"_ Harry booms. "Get the hell out, Catherine!"

Catherine seems surprised. "But Harry---" she starts.

"No," he says. "I mean it. I'm sick of this."

She looks sad for about a millisecond, but her face goes right back to angry. "Fine. C'mon Tess."

"She doesn't have to go with you," Dougie says. "We actually like her."

Tess looks at her sister hesitantly before she says, "I'll meet you back at the flat later. Go cool off, will you?"

Catherine stomps away, but something pushes me to follow her. I have no idea what I'm doing; I'm running on pure rage right now.

She's almost completely out the door when I tap her on the shoulder. Her biggest mistake was turning around.

I smack her right across the face because I know my punches aren't half as effective and say, "Don't you dare touch a hair on my friend's head again."

She just turns around in a huff and leaves completely, but I see her grasping the cheek I smacked. I feel kind of bad about it---for about three seconds.

"Damn Lucy," Dougie says when he comes up to me. "I didn't know you were so feisty."

I laugh, but out of embarrassment. "Yeah, well…I don't like people messing with my friends."

"To think, I thought you were a sweetheart," Dougie says, shaking his head.

"Hey! I'm not a mean person," I defend. "I just have to be a bit…bitchy at times."

Dougie smiles. "'Ey, it's cool, really." He leans in closer. "I happen to think the feisty ones are the most attractive."

I laugh at him. "You are so strange."

He shrugs. "All part of my charm," he says, popping his collar. I roll my eyes. "What do you think of Tess and Danny?"

I look over and see Tess is talking to Danny now and bite my lip at the exact moment he looks over at Dougie and me. "I don't know," I say. "It's cool I guess?"

He gives me that smile Remy gives me all the time whenever Danny comes up. "'It's cool, I guess?'" he quotes. "Man, you two are going to drive me mad."

I'm not even going to delve into this so I just shut up. Big mistake.

"Do you like him?"

"What?"

"Do you like him?" he repeats. "You can tell me, you know. I won't blab it."

I roll my eyes. "He's a nice guy and all, but I have a boyfriend," I say.

"Yeah, but that doesn't answer my question."

"No, I don't like him," I say slowly.

There's that smile again. "All right then."

I leave Dougie where he is so he can't interrogate me anymore and I head on over to Tom and Remy. The weirdest thing is, Remy doesn't even look like she's been hit.

"Bitch couldn't hit," she says. "It barely stings."

"I'm still sorry that she did that to you," Harry says. "I should've dumped her weeks ago."

"Weeks ago?" Tom scoffs. "You shouldn't have had anything to do with her period." Remy gets up and Tom says, "You sure you don't want that checked out?" She waves him off.

Remy claps her hands together. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

----


	32. A Closet

**Chapter Thirty-One.**

Dougie

I know that butting into other people's business is rude and it never ends well, but I think that Lucy and Danny _must _be an exception to this.

Tom and Harry are telling me not to mess with it, that Danny's got in under control. But I don't think Danny's really going to do a thing. At least, not without a little push.

Remy will agree with me, I know she will. And I bet I can get Harry and Tom into it with enough persuasion.

Danny is hanging out in the living room with Tess and Harry, but I can see him looking out the corner of his eye at Lucy who's with Remy and Tom. Lucy is looking awkwardly around the room every so often and I know she's trying hard not to look at Danny.

Okay, something needs to be done here.

"Pst, Remy," I say while I'm in the kitchen and she's on her way to the bathroom. She stops mid-step and comes a bit closer to me.

"Yeah?"

"You know how Danny and Lucy are pretty much this close to being in love with each other?" I keep my voice so low that I can barely hear it.

Remy smiles. "Uh-huh." She pauses and then says, "You're planning something." It isn't a question.

"You're right on that one," I say, "but I need some help first."

She gives me a sly smile. "What do you have in mind?"

----  
**Remy**

Dougie is my favorite member of McFly right now---besides Tom, of course.

He tells me that my job is to sway Tom to go along with a little plan Dougie has brewed up in his head and if Tom goes along with it, he says he knows Harry will, too. If we all do this together, this plan might actually work.

I get Tom alone in the kitchen as he's on a snack run.

"Hey Tom," I say casually, "what do you think of Danny and Tess?"

He's rummaging through the fridge and says, "Why does that matter?"

I shrug. "Just curious."

He pulls a container of something out, sniffs it, and cringes, throwing it back in. "I think they'd probably get along well if Danny would make an effort," he finally says.

"Why wouldn't he?" I ask. "I mean, Tess is pretty cute and she seems nice."

Tom sighs. "Do we _really need to get into how Danny operates? Might take a while."_

"I'm just saying that it doesn't make sense," I tell him. "Unless…"

Tom looks at me for a second and then he gets what I'm trying to get at. "This is about Lucy, isn't it?"

I try to look innocent. "Why, whatever do you mean, Mr. Fletcher?"

"Remy, love," he says, "I think you know as well as I do that Danny likes Lucy."

I fake a gasp. "No way."

He rolls his eyes. "Why are you bringing this up?" Tom asks. "Does Lucy…?" He trails off but I know what he's asking.

"Well, she won't say it, but I know she would if she'd stop drowning herself in denial," I say. "And there's been way too many freak coincidences between those two; there's got to something there."

He sighs. "You're not suggesting some sort of set-up are you?" Tom asks skeptically. "I mean, Lucy has a boyfriend doesn't she?"

I roll my eyes and nod. "He isn't the right one," I say. "I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but he isn't for her."

"I'm not helping you with any shenanigan you have planned." I love how he sounds so sure about that. Guess he doesn't realize that I always win.

I step a bit closer to him, give him a sugar-sweet smile, and some puppy dog eyes. He diverts his eyes and I grab his hand. "Come on, Tom," I whisper in his ear. "Think of your friend. Think of how much happier he'd be if he had Lucy."

He makes a fatal mistake by looking up. I'm still smiling and he sighs knowing he's been defeated. "What do I need to do?"

I give him a kiss and then say, "Get Harry to help us out."

"All right then," he says and he kisses me again.

Like I said, I always win.

----  
**Tom**

Damn Remy and her amazing persuasive skills. Now I'm a part of some plan that I just know is going to come back to bite _me_ in the ass.

Everyone is in the living room right now drinking and laughing and having a good time. Except for Harry. My guess is he's currently sulking in my room over that bitch of a girlfriend.

At least it makes my part of the plan easier knowing I don't have to get him alone.

I knock on the door but he doesn't answer, so I just barge in. He's lying down on my bed, flicking through channels on the TV and doesn't seem like he even knows I'm there until I clear my throat. His eyes come up and he gives me a small smile. "Hey," he says.

I lean against the doorframe. "You doing all right?"

He nods. "I feel great, honestly."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he says. "I just don't want to be bombarded with questions, so I'm hiding out in here for a bit."

"Listen," I say, "I need your help with something."

He looks at me questionably. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," I say honestly. "It's something Dougie's cooked up with Remy. But she says we need your help."

He purses his lips. "Let me guess. It has to do with Dan and Lucy?" I nod and he says, "I'm in then, mate."

"Seriously?" I say. "That's it?" For some reason, I thought there'd be a bit more of a struggle to get him to play along.

"Are you kidding me?" he says. "Danny isn't going to do anything any time soon to get Lucy and he obviously wants her. I'm glad to help him out somehow."

I smile. Maybe he's right; maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.

----  
**Danny**

Something's going on here.

I'm not sure what's up with everyone, but I know there's way too much whispering going on here.

Harry comes up to us with this glum look on his face. I feel awful that his girlfriend made such a scene today, but I feel great that Remy and Lucy set her in her place. It's about time he's dropped her.

I'm sitting with Tess who's rambling on nervously about something she did last week and I'm having a hard time listening. I didn't ask to be set up. I didn't want to be set up. But she _is_ a nice girl and I should at least be nice in return.

"Oi," Harry says and he comes to sit down next to Tess and me. "I was wondering if I could maybe speak to Tess?"

"Uh, sure mate," I say, but I don't know why he wants to and I don't know why he's asking me for permission. "Go ahead." I'm getting up, but Harry grabs my arm and pulls me back down.

"Nah, mate," he says. "I was wondering if I could speak with her alone someplace else?" He whispers softly, "About Catherine?"

Tess looks at me nervously. I shrug. "He's not a killer or anything," I assure her. "He isn't going to do anything awful to you."

She gives me a crooked smile and says, "I guess so." Harry leads her off someplace and then I'm left sitting on the couch alone. Where the hell is everyone?

That's when Tom comes in. "Hey," he says. "Where'd Tess go?"

"Went with Harry to talk about something," I say. "Where are the girls?"

"In the kitchen," he informs me. "Say," he starts, "could you do me a favor?"

"Sure," I say. "What do you need?"

He smiles. "I need to run to the store to get some more beer and I thought while I was gone, you could try and find the Twister mat. Thought we could all do that when we got back."

"All right," I say. "Where do you think it is?"

He shrugs. "I'd check the closet in the hallway first," he tells me. "It might be in there." He heads over to the door and grabs his keys. "Thanks mate!"

He's out the door before I can say anything back.

"Guess I'd better go find that mat," I say to myself as I head to the closet.

----  
**Lucy**

Remy's cutting up some cheese and I'm sitting on the counter, sipping on a beer. "Where is everyone else?" I ask curiously. I haven't seen or heard anything for a few minutes which is odd for this particular group of people.

She says, "I know Tom's going to the store and I think Dougie's playing Halo or something."

I just nod my head absently as she speaks but just as I'm zoning out she shit, "Shit!" and snaps me out of it.

"What?" I say.

"I almost forgot," she says. "Tom wanted me to find some board game or something." She's cutting up the cheese twice as fast and I can just see her cutting herself now.

"Slow down, Remy," I say. "It's just a board game."

"Yeah, but I want to hurry up and find it before he comes back," she says.

"Well, where is it?" I ask

She looks up. "No, it's okay, I'll find it. I just need to finish cutting this up and then---"

"Really, it's okay," I say.

"You sure?"

I nod. "Small price to pay for you to keep your fingers."

She smiles. "I think it's in the hallway closet."

"I'm on it," I say and I head into the hallway.

The door's already swung open and I hear some sort of noise coming from it. I go on in anyway---because I'm an idiot like that---and see someone reaching for something on the top shelf. It's pretty dark in there and I look for a second and step in, trying to find out who it is.

_Oh, son of a--- _I think when I see who it is. He turns around at the exact same time and looks at me, a bit surprised to see me. "Oh, ello Luce."

"Uh, hey?" It comes out as a question and I feel like an idiot. "Sorry, I was supposed to help find something in here," I say quickly.

"Me, too," he says. Well that's strange. Dougie pops his head in and smiles. "Hey, Doug," Danny says. "What's going on?"

He's still smiling as he says, "Sorry, guys, but this has to be done."

"Huh?" I say at the same time Dougie closes the door. I head over to the door and start jiggling the knob. Great. He's locked us in here.

I'm going to kill Dougie.

"Say, do you think---?" Danny starts but I cut him off.

"Something's up?" I finish. "Yeah. Maybe."


	33. A Mistake

**Chapter Thirty-Two.  
**  
"Frick. Frick, frick, frickety frick, _frick_," I mutter under my breath as I bang on the closet door. Someone's going to get me out of here right now.

"Relax," Danny says as he sits down on the opposite end of the closet. "There is no way Doug's going to let us out that easily. Might as well sit back and enjoy the moment."

I'm suddenly furious with him. "You had something to do with this didn't you?"

Danny looks at me like he's lost. "What?"

"You helped them out with this stupid, ridiculous, plan!" I accuse. "God, I can't believe you!"

"Whoa," he says. "I had nothing to do with this."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. "Sure you didn't."

I think he rolls his eyes too---like I said, it's dark in here. "Fine. Don't believe me."

I give up any arguing with him right now. I'm still wiped out from the fight with Catherine to care much anymore. I slide myself down to the floor and lean against the door. "I'm claustrophobic," I murmur. "I can't stand this."

He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows. "You sure that's what you can't stand?"

"Yes," I answer too quickly.

I can see him smile wryly. "I know you don't like me much."

He just looks at me like he's waiting for an answer, so I give him one. "I don't not like you," I admit. "It's just…" I don't even know how to finish that.

"It's just that there was that one night stand thing?" I nod and he smiles again. "What if I told you there wasn't?"

I look at him like he's got nine heads. "But there was."

He shakes his head. "No, there wasn't."

"Yeah, there was," I insist. How else would I wake up naked in a flipping bed with a guy next to me?

"Trust me," he says with a laugh dancing in his tone. "I was way more sober than you were."

I purse my lips. "So…did we go skinny dipping or something?"

His smile grows and he laughs. "You wanted to go swimming. With your clothes on."

I'm blushing a little and I don't even really know why. I'm glad it's too dark to tell. "And did I like to sleep with my clothes off?"

"I'm telling you the total truth here, Lucy," he says. "We never did a thing."

_Yeah, except for that kiss on Halloween,_ I want to say, but I don't say anything. "Why didn't you tell me before?" I ask. "I've been thinking I…_y'know_…with you and you never felt the need to clarify."

"You never asked me," he answers simply. "I didn't know you didn't know."

I let this drop, not wanting to get into it, but then there's this silence between us that makes my ears buzz. I can't stand that.  
Apparently, neither can Danny because he breaks it by saying, "Saw what you did to Catherine."

Once again, I feel embarrassed. "Um, yeah, I---I do stupid things when I get really mad."

"Stupid?" he echoes. "Are you kidding me? That was incredible."

I smile. "At least Tess isn't like her."

Danny shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah…"

Okay, I guess Tess isn't a good subject to talk about. "So you guys got set up huh?" Which I guess is exactly why my dumb mouth won't shut.

"Mm-hm," he says. "Catherine did it. Harry didn't even know about it."

I just nod slowly. "I see." I clear my throat and there's that silence all over again. Danny starts digging through Tom's things and I rest my head against the door and shut my eyes. My stomach grumbles and I sigh. Great. What a perfect time to get hungry.

"I could go for some goldfish right now," I mumble randomly. "I love those things."

He stops what he's doing and says, "You eat goldfish?"

"Yeah," I say but then I realize what he thinks I mean. "Not real ones! Jeez. The crackers, dude."

"Oh," he says. "Right." He continues rifling through some box and my stomach continues to speak. _Shut up,_ I keep telling it. It sounds so loud in this enclosed space.

"Oi!" Danny says, sounding excited. He holds up a bottle and says, "I found something to drink."

"What is it?" I ask and I squint at the bottle.

"Dunno," Danny replies. "The label's missing. It looks like fruit punch though." He twists the cap off and takes a gulp. A sour look goes on his face. "_Spiked_ fruit punch," he corrects. "Wonder why Tom's got it in here."

"Who knows how long that's been in here," I tell him. "You're probably going to wind up with some weird disease now."

Danny holds the bottle out to me. "Want some?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, okay. I'm totally drinking with you again." _In a confined place,_ I add in my mind.

"I told you nothing happened," he reminds me.

"And yet I still wound up naked. I'm going to pass."

He takes another swig. "It's really good," he sing-songs. "Kind of sour at first, but you get used to it."

"Nope," I say. "Not giving in to peer pressure."

He rolls his eyes. "Guess you just don't know how to have fun anymore, do you Luce?"

"Stop calling me that!" I snap suddenly, surprising myself. He looks a bit taken aback for a second and I take a breath and say, "I do too know how to have fun." Oh, God. Now I'm pouting aren't I?

_Maybe just one drink wouldn't hurt,_ I think harmlessly.

"Oh, give me the freakin' thing," I finally say hastily and I hold my hand out for the bottle. I see Danny smile and he hands it over. I take a big drink of it; it stings the whole way down.

"Happy now?" I say, handing the bottle back.

He takes a drink. "No." I sense an awkward confessional moment coming on and if that happens, I'm going to need some more to drink. I hold my hand out for the bottle and he says, "How're you and Owen?"

And the awkwardness just keeps on coming. "Great," I say and I take another swig. It doesn't burn as much this time. "He's coming home from his tour pretty soon."

"Do you love him?" he asks quietly, his eyes focused on his hands resting in his lap.

"Yeah," I say. "I do." Why does he have to ask me that?

He licks his lips. "I'm guessing he's told you about him and me then?"

"Him and you?" I repeat. "What? Did you two have an affair or something?"

He rolls his eyes. "Do you know?" I nod slowly and hand him the bottle. "Well, do you know my side?" I shake my head. "Do you _want_ to?"

----  
_2003_  
**Danny**

"I don't like that guy is all," I tell Tom when we're looking over who should be the drummer. "He's got an odd vibe about him."

"Danny, _you're_ odd," Tom points out. "And he's really good."

I sigh. "Yeah, but there were others that were better." I pull out a picture of a guy with more experience. "This bloke right here…Lewis Epstein…he was amazing."

"Lewis? He's in his thirties," Tom says. "Come on, Dan, face it. Owen Price is the best one that auditioned."

"All right fine," I say, giving in. "But you're calling him."

----

"He doesn't fit in with us," I keep telling Tom. Owen came over to hang out with us for a bit, but something didn't feel right. "I'm telling you he isn't our drummer."

Tom rolls his eyes. "You just don't like him," he states. "I dunno why either. He's a perfectly decent guy."

"There's something about him I don't like is all," I say. "I'm getting a bad feeling about him."

"Then ignore it," Tom says, putting a hand on my shoulder, "'cause he's sticking around."

----

"Eva, come on!"

My girlfriend is chucking whatever she can at my head right now and I don't even know why. "What the hell is your problem?" I ask as I dodge a pair of heels that narrowly miss my eye.

She stops, this crazy look in her eyes. "My problem?" she squeaks. "My problem is that you fucking cheated on me you arrogant prick!" And things start flying all over again.

"What are you talking about?" I yell. "There's always been just you!"

That's when a magazine hits me in the face and I see a picture of me making out with some girl I've never even seen before. "This is crap!" I tell her. "I swear I never did anything with…whoever the hell this is!"

She purses her lips. "Honest?"

"Yes," I say. "I swear."

A smile spreads across her face but it doesn't seem right. Talk about a mood switch. "If you say so."

"I do." I kiss her on the forehead. "I'll be at Sam's tonight with Tom," I inform her. "You want to come too?"

She shakes her head. "I have other plans."

"All right," I say but something's definitely not right. But I shake it off; I'm probably not right anyway.

----

Oh my God.

I swear I just saw Eva walk out of Sam's with Owen Price. Owen _fucking_ Price. What's he doing with _my_ girlfriend?

What an arrogant bloke.

"Tom," I say, nudging him with my elbow. "Is that who I think it is?"

Tom looks up where I'm pointing and he looks a bit shocked. "No way."

"Can we kick him out now?" I ask.

Tom nods. "I'll say."

----

I can't believe he has the nerve to walk into the studio after he did ran off with my girl but there he is.

He looks a bit hung over. "You fucking bastard!" I spat at him.

He doesn't even try to deny a thing. "Me?" he says, sounding all high and mighty. "Last I checked, I wasn't the only one with dirty hands here!"

"What in the bloody hell are you---" I start but I stop myself. Eva told him I cheated on her, didn't she? That little twit. "Get out," I say slowly.

"Sure," he says, not sounding bothered. "But I'd just like you to know that you deserved it."

I'm beyond angry right now. "Leave. Now. You fucking ass."

He does and I'm left with my hands curled into fists at my sides and I'm shaking with anger. _Never again will that guy take what's supposed to be mine,_ I promise myself. _I won't let it happen._

----

**Lucy**

"Um," I say, the buzz from that "fruit punch" already kicking in and causing my brain to go all fuzzy on me. "Your girlfriend was a psycho, man."

He laughs. "I realize that now," he says. "But you should've seen her." He does a wolf whistle and I roll my eyes.

"Is that all you men think about?" I wonder out loud. "Jeez."

"You feeling a bit drunk, Miss Lucy?" he asks and he starts to laugh.

I smile. "Maybe." Seriously, that stuff kicks in fast. "Is there anymore left?" He lifts up the bottle and I see that it's empty. "Oh God. I think I'm drunk."

He laughs and I have to join along. It's just so contagious. "Me too," he tells me.

I feel like I'm floating right now. That is the most powerful alcohol I have ever had in my entire life. "Danny?"

"Mm?" he mumbles.

I purse my lips and ask the question I never would've dared to ask sober. "Were you at Owen's party on Halloween?"

There's a small pause before he finally says, "Nope."

I furrow my brow. "Oh yeah?" He nods. "You're full of bullshit, Jones."

"No, I'm not," he says. "I wasn't there."

"But I saw Tom," I say confidently.

"So? Just 'cause Tom was there doesn't mean I was."

I cross my arms. "I don't like being lied to, you know."

He sighs. "I'm not lying!"

My drunken brain knows one way to prove him wrong. I crawl over to where he is (because even the drunk side of me knows better than to attempt standing right now) and he looks at me, confused. "What?"

I shake my head. "You're lying," I whisper quietly. "Why are you lying?" And why do I sound so sad?

We're forehead-to-forehead now and his hand is in my hair. _When did that happen?_ I have to ask myself, but before I know it, _I'm_ leaning in. _I'm_ putting my lips onto his. _I'm_ running my hands through his hair.

There's no doubt in my mind that Danny was the one that I kissed now. There's that edge to his kiss, just like on Halloween, and I still feel like he's trying to prove something to me.

We seem to be migrating closer and closer to the wall and Danny slams against it, the kisses becoming more eager and intense. My heart is in my throat, my cheeks are on fire, and I can't stop myself.

His hand entwines with mine and somehow I wind up being the one pressed up against the wall. His hand slides under my dress, his fingers making my back burn. My lips are tingling, just like before, and I'm taking off his shirt. Now he's taking off my dress. I'm taking off his belt. He starts kissing my neck.

And that's when my judgment snaps back into my body. What am I doing?

I push him away, my heart still feeling like it's about to explode. I try to look him in the eye for just a second but I can't do it. I feel too ashamed right now.

I run a shaky hand through my messed up hair and breathlessly he says, "I'm sorry, Luce."

"Please don't call me that," I whisper, my voice cracking. Tears are starting to blur my vision and I see one fall down and hit my hand. Why am I crying?

"I know you don't want to hear this right now---"

"So then don't say it," I cut in. I feel sick to my stomach right now. This isn't like the Halloween kiss; I'm not innocent at all. I knew exactly what I was doing.

I_ knew _I shouldn't have been drinking with him!

"I want to be with you, Lucy," he says anyway. I have a sudden urge to deck him.

"I'm with Owen," I remind him, my voice more strong this time. "I just cheated on him with you. You of all the fucking people in the world!" I rant. "Why do you keep coming back into my life, huh? Why in the hell do I have to screw up the one good thing I have going for me in my life because of you?"

I look at him now and I see the hurt on his face. Great, now I feel guilty for hurting him, too. Fuck.

"Danny, I---"

"I don't need to hear it," he says softly. "I get it."

"No, you don't---"

"Oh?" he says. "What are you going to tell me then Lucy? That you want to be with me, too? That you didn't mean what you said?" He sounds so bitter. I've never seen him like this before.

I swallow hard. "I, uh, I guess not," I stammer. More tears fall down.

"Look," he says, "I think you are probably one of the most amazing girls I have ever met in my entire life. And I really think we could have something. But…" He trails off and I want to know so badly what he's going to say.

"But what?" I finally whisper.

"But maybe I'm wrong," he says. "Maybe all of our run-ins are just flukes."

It's the oddest thing. I'm yelling at Remy all the time about her talk about fate and Danny and me and when Danny says it has nothing to do with it, when he says what I've been telling Remy all this time, _it hurts me._ Why is that? "Yeah," I say, trying to hide the fact that what he said stung me. "Maybe you're right."

I'm staring straight as his naked chest, watching how fast he's still breathing, and realize that I don't have my dress on. I feel around in the dark for it and touch his hand instead. A jolt courses through me and there's that gut feeling, telling me that I screwed up. But not with the hook-up with Danny just then. And not with all the other Danny things. I screwed up by telling him I didn't believe in us, that I didn't believe we'd ever be anything.

But, because I'm a coward, I ignore it. _It's wrong,_ I insist. _It's trying to screw me over. _

I put my dress back on and look at my watch: 12:01 a.m. _Happy new year._

I head back over to my side of the closet and I don't feel drunk at all anymore, but I wish I did. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so awful about myself.

Someone knocks and I hear a muffled voice say, "Okay, we think we've tortured you long enough."

I back away from the door and wait for them to open it, avoiding Danny and the fact that his eyes are burning a hole in my back. When the door opens, the light from the hallway is blinding and when my eyes refocus, Remy looks worried.

What must I look like right now?

"Lucy---" she starts, her tone apologetic, but I cut in.

"Never do that to me again," I warn her and my voice breaks halfway through. When I walk by a mirror, I see what I look like from the corner of my eye. I didn't realize I was still crying.

I grab my coat and Remy says, "I can bring you home."

I shake my head. "I don't really want anymore of your help right now, thanks," I snap. _Lucy Wright: professional at pushing people away._

She shrinks back and walks away. I can only imagine how scary I am right now to make Remy walk away.

I'm almost to the door when Dougie steps in my path. "I'm not in the mood, Dougie," I warn him.

He looks at me for a second like he's studying me before he says, "You're making a big mistake, you know that right?"

I'm so not in the mood for this. "Yeah, you're right," I say, my voice rising. "I never should've trusted any of you people." I push past him and walk out the door, but I barely make it to the stairwell before I burst into body-shaking sobs.

I'm so pissed off at myself right now. Why am I reacting this way?

Wait, no, I know why: I've just cheated on my boyfriend, who I'm not sure how I feel about right now, on a guy that I'm also not sure how I feel about, and I'm pushing anyone that cares even remotely away from me because I'm upset.

"What a way to start the new year," I whisper to myself bitterly.

Even _this _I can't blame on the Remote Controller. Because I'm one hundred percent in control of my life right now.

Who would've thought that my Remote Controller did a better job with my life than me?

----

"You look like hell," Dulce comments when I come back into the Inn. "On wheels."

"Shut up," I say through my grinded teeth. "I don't want to hear it right now."

Dulce puts a hand on her hip and makes a sound imitating a cat. "What the hell happened to you tonight?"

"Trust me," I say, "you don't want to know." I head up the stairs before she can say another word to me and I lock myself in my room and burrow under the covers. I want to wake up in the morning and find out that everything that happened was all a screwed-up dream, that I could start all over again and never go into that freakin' closet to find that game that probably didn't actually exist.

No, wait. I'd start back at 2006 when I went into Sam's Pub. I'd never drink that beer, and then I never would've lost my wallet, and I never would've had to go to the Inn and beg like a charity case, and I never would've met Owen.

Or maybe I'd just never go to London period and I could still be in the dark about my family. And maybe my dad wouldn't have had a heart attack because I never would've yelled at him for lying to me.

No matter what I do though, it all comes down to the same general idea: everything is all my fault.


	34. A Conversation in an Airport

**Chapter Thirty-Three.  
**  
I don't go to work the next night. Or even the night after that. I don't answer my phone either. I don't even look to see who it might be. If it isn't Remy, I know it's Owen calling about the message I left on his voicemail when I got back from the new year's fiasco.

I remember every word I said with such clarity and I know I was still buzzed because it was a really stupid thing to do. "Owen." I remember my voice cracked when I said his name. "I can't do this anymore. If you want an explanation, then I'll give you one when you get back. But I can't talk about it over the phone. I'm sorry."

Okay, it was more than really stupid. It was massively ridiculously stupid. I feel a bit embarrassed about the whole thing now, but I can't exactly turn back time now can I?

Just add this to the list of screw-ups.

----

A loud knock on my bedroom door wakes me up the next night and I debate if I should actually take the effort to answer the door.

The knocking continues for a solid ten minutes before I finally get the motivation to move and kick the ass of whoever is keeping up the knocking.

"Oh," I say, "hey, Remy."

Remy looks at me with a stern expression. "You stopped answering your phone I see?"

I lean my head on the doorframe and yawn. "I was still pissed, all right?" Among other emotions I'd rather not discuss…

"Was?"

I sigh. "I was going to call you. Eventually." If I ever got the motivation to get up.

She eyes me carefully. "Are you okay, Lucy?" She sounds worried.

How do I answer this honestly without making her more worried? "No," I finally say. "I don't think I am."

She automatically wraps me in a rib-crushing hug and I'd hug her back if she'd loosen her death grip a little bit. "Rem," I strain to say. "Can't. Breathe."

Remy lets go of me and gives me a smile. "I'm so sorry, Lucy!" she tells me. "This is all my fault!"

"No, it isn't," I assure her. "It's all on me."

"But I'm part of the reason you wound up in that closet," she says.

"But _I'm_ the reason I fucked things up with Owen," I say, diverting my eyes from her gaze as I speak. I don't want to see the look she's giving me right now.

There's a moment of silence before Remy asks, "What happened?"

I break down and tell her every last detail from that night till now, every emotion that I felt, and every thought that ran through my mind.

"Lucy…" Her voice is small and quiet. "You have to talk to him?"

"Which one?"

"Both."  
I sigh. "I was planning on talking to Owen about it when he got back."

She doesn't even hesitate saying, "And Danny?"

I groan. "Do I have to?"

"Well, I guess you don't have to, no," she says. "But come on, Lucy. Put two and two together here!"

I look at her and try to read her face, but get nothing. "You know I suck at math."

She rolls her eyes. "Must I spell everything out for you?"

"It would help, yeah," I say. "I'm much better with that subject."

"Okay, smart ass," she says. "Here's your issue. You love Owen. Right?" I nod. "But you don't _love_ him."

"Um, you've lost me already," I say, honestly confused.

"You love him more like a brother or a cousin or something," she says.

"Okay, don't mean to be immature here, but gross," I say. "I do _not _want to make out with cousins."

She hits me in the arm. "Focus, Lucy!"

I pretend to zip my lips and she continues. "Now, Danny, oh, you definitely don't have brotherly feeling towards him. In fact, I'm pretty sure you love him."

"No I don't," I protest. "In fact, right now I kind of hate him."

"You liar," she says, sounding so sure.

"Just go on with your freakin' theory, Remy," I say. I'm sick of having to defend myself.

"Face it, Lucy," she says, putting a hand on my shoulder and looking me straight in the eye. "You and Danny are meant to have something."

Of course you'd say that, I'd like to say, but what comes out of my mouth instead is, "We did already. Randomly. A lot. For brief amounts of time."

"I mean something more than a drunken moment in a closet," she says with a funny face. "Huh. Never thought I'd say that again."

"Again?"

She purses her lips. "You know what? Never mind," I say. "I don't think I want to know."

Remy looks at her watch and says, "Happy New Day."

"Oh, God," I moan. "_Please._ No New Year expressions or references in any way."

Once more, she rolls her eyes. "I'm leaving tomorrow night," she informs me. "I was wondering if you'd do me the honors of bringing me to the airport."

"No tricks?" I have to make sure.

"None," she says, holding up her hand. "Scout's honor."

"Then I shall see you tomorrow," I say.

Remy smiles at me. "Don't let this eat at you, Lucy," she says. "So you screwed up? Who hasn't?"

I sigh. "Yeah, I guess."

But I don't take her advice, regardless.

----

At least Remy didn't lie about no tricks.

Tom showed up, but that doesn't bother me. Besides, who knows when they'll see each other again? And they're obviously infatuated with each other.

I leave Tom and Remy alone to say their goodbye's after I say mine and Remy gives me the same advice from last night (she reads me too well sometimes). I could just go now, but I want to talk to Tom. I want to know what Danny's told him---and Remy for that matter, because as much as I love that girl, she can't shut her mouth to save her life.

I meet up with him on my way out and he looks a bit startled to see me. "Oh. Hey, Lucy."

"You think I'm awful, don't you?"

"What? No!"

I bite my lip. "What'd Danny tell you?"

"Nothing." It's so obvious he's lying. I stare him down till he gives up. "Oh, all right fine. He told me the whole story. And Remy did too."

Knew it. "I'm not mad at you," I let him know in case he's wondering. "At least, not anymore. And you can tell Dougie that too. And Harry if he happened to be involved."

I'm sensing an inevitable question to come flying out of his mouth. "And what about Danny?"

Bingo. "Does he hate me?"

"Seriously?" I nod. "Are you kidding me? He couldn't hate you if you destroyed every Bruce Springsteen song and memorabilia ever created."

I was kind of half hoping he would detest me for the rest of his life. "Are you sure?"

I can see Tom senses something. "You sound disappointed." I shrug. "He thinks you can't stand him," he says. "He thinks it's all his fault."

God, why can't these dense people see that it's mine? "Tell him I don't hate him," I say in a small voice.

"Tell him yourself." I must give him some sort of look because then he says, "Well, now, if you care enough to have me pass along the message of you not hating him, you obviously care about him in general. Who says you can't just be friends?"

I laugh. "Friends after that little scene?"

"Why not?" he says, sticking his hand in his pockets. "You can drown yourself in little excuses, Lucy, but in the end you're not going to feel any better unless you do something."

"Yeah, yeah," I say. "Sorry for wasting your time. Bye."

I'm walking away when he says something that makes me stop. "He loves you, you know. He won't say it to even his own reflection, but I can see it."

I chew on the inside of my cheek and don't bother turning around when I say, "Later, Tom," and I walk off.

But his words are still stuck on repeat in my mind for the rest of the day.

----

I spend the majority of the next day trying to find my phone (that I put someplace so I wouldn't have to hear the incessant ringing anymore). I finally find it in the fridge (don't ask) and I check my messages.

Twenty-one. Eighteen are from Remy, one's from David, and two are from a telemarketer asking for me to switch my long distance plan.

And yet, not a single call from Owen.

Okay, I know that shouldn't make me upset---after all, I was the one that told him not to call---but it really gets under my skin. Does he not care enough to even take the effort to call even though I said not to? Does he really have to be so obedient?

_It's over,_ I remind myself. _Why am I dwelling on all this stuff that happened in the past?_

_Because you love him you dumb ass,_ a little voice whispers back.

The worst part is that I have no idea who the voice is talking about anymore.


	35. A Studio Chat

**Chapter Thirty-Four.  
**  
I show up to work the next night and Dulce fakes a heart attack at the sight of me. I roll my eyes and tie my apron on, ignoring her.

"So you _are_ alive," she says. "Good to know."

"Please," I say. "You wish I was dead. Why would I give you that satisfaction?"

She rolls her eyes. Apparently whatever I said she finds ridiculously untrue; _I_ personally thought it was pretty accurate.

"Have you seen the papers?" she asks conversationally as she reaches under the counter for some magazine.

I shake my head and push it away. "I don't want to see it," I say. "Please." The last thing I want to see is me on the front cover.

She rolls her eyes. "Trust me, you want to know." She shoves it to me again and I finally just take it. I look down at the front cover and see a picture of Danny with Tess holding hands.

"Why do you feel the need to show me this?" I almost snap at her. What, did she think this would hurt me?

It's going to take a bit more than that at this point.

She shrugs. "Isn't he who you fancy nowadays?"

I roll my eyes. "No," I stress. "He isn't."

"Funny," she says. "That's what the article says."

"I never said that."

"Didn't have to."

I am so sick of people that think they know what I'm feeling better than I do. "Whatever Dulce."

I start walking towards a table with a costumer when Dulce says, "Just thought you'd like to know since he came around the other day looking for you."

I have to turn around and ask, "Really?"

She nods. "Looked pretty torn up. I told him that you were hauled up in your room."

"And?"

"And nothing," she says. "That's all I said."

"Huh."

"What?" she says curtly. "Did you think I'd say something to embarrass you or something?"

I hesitate. "Well…yeah."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not pure evil despite what you want to believe," she states. "Though I easily could've been very awful then."

"Well then…thanks I guess," I say. Dulce mutters a "whatever," and I get on with my work. But I can't get my mind off of Danny.

He had shown up here? What did he want? And what about Tess? Are they something now?

I shouldn't care at all about this, I know that much, but it won't stop bugging me.

You know what? Tom's right; I can list excuse after excuse, but in the end, I still feel the same even though I won't admit it. And my gut's telling me that I need to do something, anything.

Screw this. I'm going to stop moping and get some answers.

----

I just realized I have no idea where Danny lives.

I have to stop by Tom's, which totally ruins the my element of surprise at all since he's totally going to call Danny and let him know I'm on my way before I get there. It's just what friends do.

Still, I can't get there if I don't know where the hell I'm going.

Tom doesn't even look surprised to see me, which surprises me. "Ello, Lucy," he chirps. "Looking for someone?"

"Are you psychic or something?"

He shrugs. "I had a feeling this would happen."

"So, um, would you care to tell me Danny's whereabouts?"

He smiles, revealing his dimple. "He's at the studio right now, but you'd better hurry up."

"Right," I say and I start turning around before I realize I have no freakin' idea where the studio is. "Um, where---" I start but Tom cuts me off.

"I'll drop you off," he says, grabbing his keys. "Let's go get you crazy kids together shall we?"

----

Tom tells me that no one else but Danny should be in the studio and he tells me that with a wink. I roll my eyes at him and his innuendo and get out of his car, giving him a thank you.

What I'm doing is actually quite nuts. And impulsive. And ridiculous. But here I am.

My stomach is doing back flips just thinking about what I'm going to do and my feet are stumbling more than ever. _Breathe, Lucy, _I repeat in my head over and over again. _Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. _

A familiar singing voice comes from nearby and I lean against the wall to listen better before I reveal myself. The voice sings:

_"She never bites her tongue when something should be said  
She's a sweetheart that will tell you to drop dead  
She's contradicting  
Yeah, she don't mean it  
Don't take it personal when it's said  
Hey, I don't mind  
She's who I've been hoping to find…"_

The voice stops and there's a long enough silence that I decide it's time for me to show myself.

Just as I'm rounding the corner to the studio, I slam right into a body that I'm all too familiar with. I feel myself blushing and I look down at my feet as I regain my balance and I finally manage to look up at him.

Those blue eyes that I'm so familiar with are looking at me with curiosity and he's got a faint trace of a smile dancing on his face. "Hey, Dan," I manage to say smoothly. "How's it going?"

"It's going," he says. "How's everything with you?"

Why all the small talk? "All right," I say. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"

He puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. "Shoot."

I purse my lips. "Did you happen to stop by Mitchell's Inn recently?"

He looks at me like I'm nuts. "No." And I know he's not lying either, it's obvious he isn't acting. So why would Dulce lie?

"Oh," I say. "Um…" Now I'm stuck. If he didn't show up then that probably means that he didn't actually want anything to do with me and that he's with Tess.

But what if he isn't?

"," I blurt out in one breath. Smooth move, Lucy.

He raises an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

I don't want to say that again. "I said, I love you," I whisper quietly and I look down at my feet, biting my lip.

Oh God, that was so stupid! What am I doing here? This is so---

Danny's fingers lift up my chin so I'm forced to look him in the eye. He's giving me a smile, but not the one that gives me butterflies. What does this one mean?

"Oh, Lucy," he whispers softly. He strokes my chin lightly with his thumb before he lets go.

I'm not really sure what to do now. "I---" I start but he stops me when I feel him putting something in my hand.

I look down and see that it's my wallet that I had lost back in 2006. He had it the whole time?

"What---?"

"I'm sorry," Danny says, "but this---us---it's just never going to happen. I think it's obvious it wouldn't work."

_So this wallet means goodbye then?_ I wonder, looking down at it. "Right," I force myself to say. I want to leave here civilly. "You're completely right. I'm sorry I wasted your time."

I chew on the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from coming. "I think you're amazing, Lucy," he says. "Really."

For some reason, that makes something in me snap. "So then why'd you spend all that time trying to get me then?" So much for leaving civilly.

He doesn't say anything for what feels like a long time. "Dunno," he finally says. "False hope, I guess?"

_False hope? _I repeat in my mind. _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ "You think I'm going to take an answer like _that?" _

"Lucy, please---" he starts to beg, but I can't make the words stop.

"You know what? Forget it," I say. "Maybe you're right. I'd never want anything with someone who makes up shit just to spare my feelings or something."

"I'm not---"

"Shut up," I say wearily. "Have a nice life with Tess, Danny Jones. I won't be there to fuck it up anymore, so don't worry." And then I walk off without him saying another word.

He never follows.


	36. A Flight

**Chapter Thirty-Five.**

I go straight back to my flat and all I want to do is watch some crappy TV and eat something that isn't healthy for me after the Danny debacale. I feel like an idiot and a fool and any other negative adjective that there is out there.

Dulce doesn't bother me when I come in which I find odd considering her curiosity issuses, but I'm not about to question it. Right now, I just want to be alone.

I put the key into the door, but it's already unlocked. I start freaking out, thinking that someone broke in. Are they still in there and are they going to kill me for whatever I have of value in my flat (which is nothing by the way)?

I slowly open the door and look around the best I can before I step inside. No one's in sight so I slink on in.

"Hello?" I call out stupidly. "Someone in here?" Oh dear God, I'm nuts.

Cautiously, I make my way into my bedroom and open the door up. No one's in there and I breathe out in relief. Guess I did just forget to lock the door before I left.

"Hello, Lucy," a low voice then says from behind me. I jump and my heart's in my throat until I turn around and see who it is.

"Owen?"

He gives me a smile revealing his dimples and says, "I came back a bit earlier than expected."

_He's being awfully friendly with me,_ I can't help but notice. _Does he not remember that I dumped him through a voicemail?_

Still, it is great to see him and see that he's not mad about it. "Great to see you Owen, but, uh, could you not sneak up on me next time?"

He laughs. "Sorry about that."

"You should be. I almost peed my pants."

"Well, I apologize," he says. "So…did you miss me?" He grins and pulls me into a hug.

Okay, seriously, something's up here. "Yeah," I say and I really mean it. Just because I turned out to have feelings for Danny, doesn't mean my feelings for Owen just stopped.

He kisses the top of my head and I know I need to ask him if he knows I dumped him, but he answers my question when he says, "Sorry I didn't call. I lost my phone on New Year's during all the madness."

Great. I get to break up with him all over again. Unless…

_No, Lucy, _I scold myself. _You cannot stay with Owen after all the stuff that happened with Danny. That's just not fair._

But then I look at Owen and his clear blue eyes and I really debate whether or not breaking up with him was a bad idea. It's obvious I need to tell him the truth, but what if he'd be willing to stay with me anyway?

Talk about being delusional.

"Owen?" I manage to squeak out.

"Yeah?"

"I fucked up," I say bluntly. He looks at quizzically and I continue. "While you were gone…" I can't force the words out; they're all sticking together.

"Um, care to elaborate?"

I run a hand through my hair. "I sort of, kind of, made out with Danny Jones. In a closet. After being locked in there. On New Years. And after drinking some sort of spiked fruit punch."

He's looking at me like I've lost it. I didn't think the situation was that elaborate.

"And you didn't care to tell me?"

"I actually sort of did," I admit. "But you lost your phone."

"Right."

Expecting an explosion of anger from him at any moment now. "So…is that all that happened between you two?" His voice is so oddly calm. You'd think that being cheated on in any form would be enough to set him off, especially considering the fact that he's been cheated on before.

I can't lie anymore. "No."

"Did you sleep with him?"

_"No."_

"Do you love him?"

This one I hesitate on. "I thought I might've," I say, "but I really don't know."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes." That one was easy.

"Do you still want to be with me?"

"Do you want to be with me?" I retort.

He looks at me for the longest time before he finally says, "Only if you want to be with me. And just me."

What am I supposed to say to that? "You know what?" I finally say. "I think the best thing for you is for me to stay out of your life."

He looks confused by this. "Stay out of my life?"

I nod. "All I do is screw things up, Owen," I say. "I'm just going to wind up making you miserable."

"Miserable?"

"Why are you repeating everything I say?"

"Repeating?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm asking to be taken seriously here, Owen."

"It's hard to take you seriously when you're saying such ridiculous things," he says

"It's not ridiculous," I state, "it's the truth."

He rolls his eyes. "You're right actually."

"I am?"

"Oh yeah. Every time I'm around you, I want to shoot myself because I just feel so incredibly unhappy."

"Oh, shut up," I say, hitting him lightly on the arm. "Why are you being so cool about all of this?"

He shrugs. "I know better than to try and convince you to change your mind. Once your mind's set, there's no changing it," he tells me. "Don't get me wrong, I love you and I don't particularly enjoy that I'm being dumped right now, but yelling at you isn't going to help anything now is it?"

I smile. "You're a really great guy, Owen," I say. "And you're being way too good to me right now."

"Guess you'll have to give me a really good Christmas present then," he says lightly and he gives me another kiss, only this time it's a light peck on the lips. "I'm going to be the bigger man this time."

"Huh?" I say lamely. This seems sort of random to me.

"If Danny's who you want, then…go for it."

I can see that those words were hard for him to say. "I already did," I say quietly.

"Oh," he says. There's a small pause before he asks, "How'd it go?"

I purse my lips. "Yeah, um, he doesn't really…just no. Not going to happen."

"Well if it's any consolation," Owen starts, "I think he's mad for turning someone as incredible as you down."

I blush a little and smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He heads for the door and turns around to give me that smile that still makes my stomach do a little flip. "Don't become a stranger there, Lucy."

"I won't," I promise and he's out the door and more than likely out of my life forever.

"Where's that damn junk food?" I wonder out loud and I head for the kitchen. I'm going to need a lot more than crappy TV and food now.

----

London doesn't feel as homey as it used to anymore.

I'm not sure if it's because I broke it off with Owen or because of the Danny thing or just because I can't stay in one place for too long without losing it, but I don't want to be here anymore.

I've thought about it for a few days now and I've got it all figured out. I'm going back to America. London doesn't have anything to give me anymore.

When I told David, he looked genuinely sad. I swore I even saw Dulce frown at the news. And then she does something even more shocking the day I'm leaving: she hugs me. I check my back for any Kick Me signs and didn't see one. Weird. Dulce_can_be nice.

She rolls her eyes at me as I pat down my back---just double checking---and says, "How many times do I have to say that I'm not pure evil, Lucy?"

I shrug. "Sorry, Dulce. Just had to be sure." I give her a smile and say, "I think I'm going to miss you."

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters. "I just hugged you because I felt bad."

"About what?" I ask. "All those things you've said to me?"

"No," she says. "For lying to you about that bloke showing up around here a little while back." And just like that I know what she's talking about.

So she _did_ lie. "Why would you do that?"

She shifts her body uncomfortably. "I thought it was time for you to do something about how you felt about him is all…"

I smile again. "Aw, Dulce! You _do_ care!" I make sure my voice is extra-sweet.

"Please," she begs, "stop now."

"Bye, Dulce," I say.

"Yeah, cheers," she says and before I know it, she's back behind that bar sifting through boxes like she did the first day I ever showed up.

I'm feeling rather nostalgic right now.

I have one last stop to make before I go and I've got fifteen minutes to do it. With one last look at the outside of Mitchell's Inn, I walk off, leaving all the old feelings and memories behind.

----

"Lucy," Gran says with that eye crinkling smile, "I'm so glad you came to see me before you left."

I smile brightly back. "I could never just leave without saying goodbye, Gran," I tell her knowingly. "What kind of granddaughter would I be?"

"Do you have time to come in?" she asks hopefully. I stare down at my watch and see that I've got ten minutes.

I sigh. "Unfortunately, no."

"Well then give your old Gran a hug before you forget!" She pulls me into a hug and I hug back, feeling so sad that I'm leaving right now. Gran is the only reason I'd stick around here.

"Your leaving has nothing to do with those boys does it?" she asks in all seriousness.

"No Gran," I tell her. "Not completely anyway."

"You make sure you come and visit me again," she demands. "And drag that father with you."

I smile. "Will do."

We chat for a little bit and exchange goodbyes and one last hug and then Gran tells me, "Running away doesn't work you know."

"I'm not running away." She looks at me with skepticism. "I'm not," I say more strongly. "And besides, you're just trying to get me to stay."

She smiles. "That may be true, but you can't deny that you're trying to avoid something."

"Yeah," I say, "I'm trying to avoid those paparazzi." They still bombard me with questions even though I have no more connection to Owen or Danny anymore. They keep asking me how I feel about Danny's new 'love interest' and Owen's alleged 'drug abuse problem,' which by the way isn't true at all. I don't know about Danny's gossip, but Owen doesn't do that stuff, especially not after his dad OD'd on painkillers last summer.

"Take care, love," Gran says. "Don't forget to give me a ring every once and a while."

"I won't," I tell her. "Bye," I say one last time before I finally walk away and see that I'm ten minutes off schedule already. Add in traffic, I'm going to be a good twenty minutes off schedule.

Well, flights are normally delayed a decent half hour or so right?

----

My flight left on time.

I finally get a plane that leaves on time and I'm late. Just fantastic.

I settle on a flight to Massachusetts that leaves in twenty minutes instead since the next flight to New York isn't until tomorrow and I don't want to go through another goodbye thing with everyone.

I call my dad from the airport to let him know that I won't be home as soon as I thought. He misunderstands me and thinks I'm staying in London for good and I have to explain that I just missed my flight.

He sounds almost disappointed. What is with everyone?

When I land, I go over to the nearest hotel and crash right away. I'm completely jet-lagged. And when I wake up, I see that I have five new missed calls, all from Remy.

I dial her number and she answers on the first ring. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Are you in America or not?"

"Yeah, I am," I tell her. "I'm heading to New York tomorrow."

Is she going to be all disappointed too? "Well hurry up and get your ass back here then!" Guess not. "I miss my best buddy!"

I laugh. "Right back at you," I say.

"So…you didn't talk to him then?"

I sigh. I informed Remy the night before I left about everything that happened since she left and she wanted me to talk to Danny before---or if---I left. "No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to." And I mean that. The last thing I want to do is talk to the guy that flat-out rejected me after many elaborate plans of him trying to get me. "'Sides, he's with Tess now."

I bet she rolls her eyes at me when I say that. "Whatever, Lucy."

"So, how's Tom?" I ask, trying to change the subject. Seems like a dumb subject changer since Tom can easily be led back to Danny, but Remy can go on for hours about Tom.

"Busy," she says. "The band's planning some sort of last minute thing." And that's all she says.

I yawn, still exhausted. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Remy," I promise.

"Okay," she says. "Bye."

"Later." And then I hang up and decide to watch some TV. Nothing's on and I wind up falling asleep after watching some awful MTV music videos (what has American music come to since I've left?).

I don't have a single dream.


	37. A Serenade

**A/N: One chapter left after this! **

**Chapter Thirty-Six.  
**  
I wake up to pure white.

There's snow piled up so high on my window that I can't see outside. I know I'm on the first floor, but I wonder how much higher that snow goes up.

I make my way into the lobby and even though I know it's a hopeless cause, I have to ask, "Any chance of me getting out of here today?"

The desk clerk just laughs at me. _I'll take that as a no then._

And then the power goes out shortly thereafter. How freakin' wonderful. I mean, sure they've got generators, but that's still not a good omen for the weather.

Guess I'm not going home anytime soon.

----

Four days.

That's how long it takes for the storm to end and to clear the snow away from the hotel. And I have to wait one more day to actually leave the freakin' place. And the only channel on my TV that works is MTV.

Life's just _wonderful. _

----

When I wake up the next morning, I hear a familiar voice speaking. It takes a few minutes to register it, but then I realize who it is and my eyes flutter open.

I know I'm either losing my mind, or he's in my hotel room right now going on about a new album coming out.

When I sit up, I see the TV's still on and sure enough there they are, talking away. _Or they could be on the TV, dumb ass._ Since when is McFly on American TV? I turn up the volume and listen closely.

"We're wicked excited to be here right now," Tom tells the interviewer, a young looking blonde girl who wears way too much makeup. "We've always wanted to break America and we made some last minute plans and now here we are."

Remy's words ring through my ears. _"The band's planning some sort of last minute thing." _Damn it Remy, why couldn't you have said something?

The interviewer smiles slyly and then says, "Well I've heard from some sources in the UK that you have a special someone here in the states."

The crowd does a sort of "oooh" and some girls just look plain disappointed. Tom turns a light shade of pink, smiles widely and says, "Yes, I have actually."

The interviewer then asks the rest of the group, "How about you boys? Any American girls catch your eye recently?"

"Well, we've only been here two days," Harry remarks. "Haven't really done much…'sight seeing.'"

The interviewer laughs but it sounds a bit fake. "So no girlfriends back home then?"

"Not anymore," Harry says. "And Danny's completely screwed up anything even resembling a relationship since we've been a band."

The camera turns to a close-up of Danny who puts on a fake smile and hits Harry in the arm. I see Harry wince and start rubbing his arm.

The interviewer raises an eyebrow at this and looks curiously at Danny. "I sense some drama here…?"

Dougie pipes in with a, "You have no idea."

"Oh, my God," I say under my breath. "Dougie, if you utter a word…" I'm threatening a TV screen. I've truly lost it.

She's intrigued now. She leans in a little closer to them all and says, "Do tell."

Dougie opens his mouth but Tom cuts in. "It's a long story," he says. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

I love Tom.

"Yes, but---" Dougie starts and Tom steps on his foot, causing Dougie to let out a yelp. "You di---" Dougie starts, but he puts his lips together and sits back on the couch, rubbing his foot.

The interviewer just looks puzzled. "Um, so anyway, thank you boys for joining us today. You're going to give us a special performance later, yes?"

All of them nod in unison with muttered yeses tossed in between. Then it cuts to a commercial and I'm left sitting on my hotel bed, confused and weirdly annoyed and confused and ecstatic and freakin' confused.

Where are they in America anyway? And Remy didn't actually care to mention this little fact to me at all? Is this another one of her tricks?

I want to turn off the TV, but something stops me. They're going to be back on later, so maybe I can get some sort of hint as to their location. If it's anywhere near me, it has to be a set-up.

I call Remy who doesn't answer; I don't leave a message. Her not answering is enough for me. She'd answer her phone if she was in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and someone was on the verge of killing her.

After what feels like ten minutes of nonstop advertising for things I'll never want, the show comes back on and the interviewer from earlier answers my question when they say, "…and live from New York City, here is McFly!"

The crowd cheers and just Danny enters the stage with an acoustic guitar. I notice the other three standing on the sidelines whispering something to each other.

Danny sits down in a chair set in the middle and brings the mic to his level. "I've got something I need to do," he tells the audience. "Y'see, there's this amazing girl out there and I mucked things up." _Oh God._ My stomach drops completely. He starts strumming and says, "I apologize straight away for the rubbish quality of these lyrics. I wrote them in ten minutes."

He starts playing a beautiful sounding melody and he's concentrating on something straight ahead, like he's afraid of looking someone in the eye in case he screws up. And then, his hypnotizing voice starts singing:

_"Hey Lucy  
What have you done to me?  
You leave me breathless  
Anything but hopeless  
You are so much more than  
I ever could've dreamed_

Hey Lucy  
What is it about your smile?  
It makes my heart want to burst  
And I know I can't be cursed  
'Cause I've found you  
And you're beautiful

Hey Lucy  
What did you see in me?  
I'm just a stupid boy  
Used you like a toy  
You deserved so much better  
Oh, way better than me."

He breaks into a mini-solo and then starts up singing again. The crowd is completely entranced, just like me.

_"But I still want you  
Don't know what to do  
Can't look you in the eye  
'Cause your pain is all I see  
And it's all my fault  
Yes, it's all on me  
And I'm so sorry."_

I have to turn off the TV now and I run my unsteady fingers through my hands absently. Having a song written about me always seemed like it'd be cool. Till it actually happened. "That son of a…" I whisper so quietly under my breath that it's practically inaudible.

He had actually gone out of his way to go to America to sing a song about me to the public apologizing for being an ass. But does he really think I'd just want him back just like that? Is this is master plan?

_"Hey Lucy, what did you see in me?"_ That line's stuck in my heead on repeat and I don't even know how to answer that question, honestly. I don't know what it was that drew me to him anymore.

I bite down on my lip and run a hand through my hair again; guess it's become a nervous habit. I'm sitting down on my little hotel bed for what feels like hours before something in me just brings me up and I'm heading out the door.

Maybe what I'm doing is nuts---definitely a great possibility for me---but I don't care. I need to do something. Because if I don't, I could regret it.

And maybe it won't change anything at all, but I'll be damned if I wake up twenty years from now wondering, "What if I had taken that chance?"

Maybe Remy's right; maybe there is such a thing as fate. Maybe there was a reason that storm kept me here in a hotel that's much closer to New York City than where I actually live. And maybe it's finally going to work in my favor.

----

**Danny**  
_After New Year's…_

Lucy hates me and I know it.

I can't say I blame her at all. I mean, I've spent all this time trying to get her to fall for me and then we wind up in a closet together and then we snog and it almost leads to more and she blames herself for it completely. But she wasn't the only one involved; I wasn't exactly saying no either.

I want to go right up to her, grovel, and then have her just forgive me for all the shit that's gone on between us and then we can just live happily ever after. Course, even I know nothing's that easy. Especially not when other people are thrown into the whole mess.

That night after I came out of the closet---not in that way of course---with Lucy, Tess was still around. She seemed really confused about the whole thing and I had to explain it to the best of my ability (I was still a bit drunk). She seemed like she totally got it---not that Tess and I were exactly in love with each other---and we said our goodbye's and parted on pretty good terms.

But then Catherine waltzes into the studio when I'm all by myself the next day, completely narked and ready to skin me by the looks of it. "You bastard," she sneers. "Why would you kick my sister to the curb?"

I set down my guitar. "I told her why," I say. "You don't need to know."

She raises an eyebrow and places a hand on her hip. "Oh? I do believe I'd like to hear it actually."

I roll my eyes. "I'm sure Tess told you all about it," I say. "Besides, she didn't care. She said she fancied some other guy anyway." I won't mention that it's Dougie she was speaking of.

"Oh, sure," she says, "but she's going to be with you."

"Me?" I repeat. "What are you going on about?"

She rolls her eyes like I'm stupid for not getting what the hell she means. "You'll date my sister or I'll make sure you never sell another CD again."

I laugh. "And how would you have the power to do that."

She holds out a photo of her from last night with a big hand mark on her face from where Lucy had hit her. "What---"

"I can easily say that Harry got completely pissed one night and started hitting me," she tells me so casually as she waves the picture around. "Who would listen to a band that has a woman beater in it?"

"Why?" I ask. "Why do I have to date your sister so badly?"

"What can I say?" she says. "I like fame."

"You're demented and mental," I tell her. She thinks me dating her sister is going to make her famous? What the hell?

She just shrugs off the comment. "Go ahead and think on it, Jones, but I think you know what the right choice is."

She slips the picture into her coat pocket and saunters off, leaving me completely baffled.

So much for making things better with Lucy.

----

I don't tell the guys about the blackmail. Maybe it's a stupid thing to do, but for some reason I don't want them to know about it.

They know I'm "dating" Tess now and they think I've lost it. Harry's about ready to kill me, saying things like, "I wore a dress so you could get that girl and you're just giving up?" but I just ignore him.

I want to be with her, I'd like to tell them, but I'm trying to save the band.

The deal is I date Tess, showing up at events with her and doing things with the papparazzi present. And Tess isn't supposed to know that any sort of set up is going on.

It was tough to convince her to go on a date with me, especially after I said all of that stuff about Lucy and she said she thought she might like Doug, but I eventually got to her. I feel bad about this because I'm not just sacrificing my happiness, but I'm sacrificing hers too.

But I can't let Harry be branded as a woman beater either.

God. Why do I always get into the most fucked up, complicated situations?

----

I'm in the studio, fooling around, when I get a sudden inspiration.  
Lucy's crossing my mind. No, that's not true. Lucy's stuck on my mind all the time, right in front of my face constantly, and I start fooling around with chords and I make up some lyrics on the spot.

_"She never bites her tongue when something should be said  
She's a sweetheart that will tell you to drop dead  
She's contradicting  
Yeah, she don't mean it  
Don't take it personal when it's said  
Hey, I don't mind  
She's who I've been hoping to find…"_

And that's when I stop abruptly, seeing her reflection in the glass. I hesitate walking over there, afraid that someone will walk in---like Catherine---and then I'm completely screwed.

But I can't stay away.

I'm rounding the corner when we crash into each other. We both regain our balance and I see that she's blushing and I smile at that. I like that I make her blush.

"Hey, Dan. How's it going?" Her voice sounds like she's trying hard to sound calm.

"It's going," I reply. "How's everything with you?"

"All right," she says and things feel so awkward between us right now. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"

I lean against the wall, sticking my hands in my pockets, completely nervous. "Shoot."

"Did you happen to stop by Mitchell's Inn recently?"

I look at her, confused, and say, "No." Where did that question come from?

"Oh," she says, looking disappointed and maybe even a little confused herself. "Um…"

There feels like there's this long silence between us and then she breaks it when she quickly says, "."

I have no bloody clue what she just said. "Sorry?"

She looks embarrassed. She bites her lip in concentration and looks down at her feet as she says softly, "I said I love you."

My heart is beating so hard and so quickly right now that I'm afraid she might be able to see it. She's just said the words I've wanted to hear.

I make her look me in the eyes by lifting up her chin and I give her a smile that basically means, "I feel the same way, but I can't do this and I'm sorry." She doesn't know what I mean and she's looking at me, a bit lost.

I start stroking her chin with my thumb. "Oh, Lucy."

I start reaching for her wallet that has been in my pocket almost every day since that night and when she says, "I---" I stick it in her hand. The wallet was my last hope, the one thing that kept me holding on, and now I know it's too late. It's time to let it go.

She turns it around in her hands, looking at it and wondering what the hell it's supposed to mean. "I'm sorry," I say, "but this---us---it's just never going to happen. I think it's obvious it wouldn't work."

Every word stabs into me because I know every word is a lie.

"Right," she says quietly. "You're completely right. I'm sorry I wasted your time."

I see the tears in her eyes and I think I feel some coming on in mine too. I have to say something true. "I think you're amazing, Lucy. Really."

Turns out, this is the wrong thing to say. "So then why'd you spend all that time trying to get me then?" she snaps.

I'm taken aback a bit and I don't have a good enough answer for this so I eventually just say, "Dunno. False hope, I guess?"

I know it's a stupid answer that makes no sense and so does Lucy. "You think I'm going to take an answer like that?"

"Lucy, please---" I begin, but she cuts me off.

"You know what? Forget it. Maybe you're right. I'd never want anything with someone who makes up shit just to spare my feelings or something."

"I'm not---"

"Shut up." She sounds so sad when she says it. "Have a nice life with Tess, Danny Jones. I won't be there to fuck it up anymore, so don't worry." And then just like that, she's gone. And she's taken my battered heart right along with her.

----

This time, it's Tom that wants to kill me.

"You idiot!" he says. "You love her and you told her that you didn't?"

"No," I say meekly. "I just said we wouldn't work out."

He rolls his eyes. "You might as well have said that then."

"You don't understand…" I mutter and he's looking at me expectantly now for me to explain.

I don't say a thing though and he eventually gives up and walks away from me.

My God, I suck.

----

"Danny freakin' Jones," I hear Tess saying like she's scolding me. "You've got some explaining to do."

I'm sitting on my couch when she just bursts in and I'm completely lost. "What?"

She throws a picture at my face and I notice that it's the picture of Catherine. The blackmail photo.

"Where did you---?"

"Catherine fessed up the moment I told her that I was dumping you," she states in a matter-of-fact way. She's dumping me? Meh, whatever. "Why didn't you tell me, Dan?"

I shrug. "I was afraid Harry would get into trouble and then the band would go down the drain and then I'd have nothing."

She sighs. "If you told me, I would've made sure to destroy this bullshit," she says, motioning to the picture. "Cat has no right to do this."

"Yeah, I know," I say.

"Do the boys know?" I shake my head. "Are you going to tell them?" I don't do anything. "Danny, you've got to say something about your behavior recently!"

She sits herself down right next to me. "And about you and Lucy…"

I groan. "Oh, please, don't bring that up," I beg. "I've already screwed that up royally."

"Yes, but there's one way to win her back," she says knowingly.

I look at her curiously. "How?"

She smiles. "Serenade her."

----

"Mate, don't do this," Tom begs me. "Please."

"Why not?" I'm heading for Mitchell's Inn to take Tess's advice and win Lucy back with a song. One that I threw together in ten minutes, but she said it's good so I'll go with it. I just told Tom everything (minus the blackmail) and I thought he'd be a bit more supportive.

"I didn't want to tell you this, but…" Tom hesitates and I tell him to spit it out. "Lucy's on her way back to America right now."

I stop what I'm doing. "What?" Are you serious?

"Remy just called and told me," he says. "She's fed up with London, I guess."

My heart just sunk. "Well, hell," I say. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

Tom shrugs. "Perhaps if you hadn't gone off with Tess and said that you loved her when you had the chance, you wouldn't be in this position."

I sigh. "You don't get it, Tom," I say.

"Then explain it," he retorts, "'cause I'm lost."

So I do without any hesitation. And Tom looks at me with complete shock. "What a cow," he says. "Fucking hell."

"I know," I say. "Everything's just working against me and Lucy," I tell him. "Maybe we shouldn't have had anything."

"Yeah sure," he says. "Do you want to believe that bullocks or do you want to get the girl, Jones?"

I smile. "What do you have in mind?"

----

A last-minute trip to America. And we're going to play a few gigs. I'm not sure if Tom is more brilliant or mad.

We've always wanted to play in America and I guess now we have an excuse. And if it gets me the girl then so be it.

Tom's told Remy the whole thing but Remy says her lips are sealed on the whole thing. We've got an interview and performance (courtesy of Harry and Tom's persuation skills) and Remy's going to get her to watch it (since Lucy's going to be home by then). I'm going to serenade a girl over the telly and it's going to be awesome.

----

The plan falls through.

Weather gets in the way, so Lucy doesn't get home. She's deserted in Massachusetts until the weather clears up and our gig in New York City is tomorrow. Remy says there's no way she'll be home by then. And Remy can't just call her up and say, "Watch MTV," because there's no way she will.

Why is it that there's always something standing in our way? Every time I try, something blows up in my face.

Tom's telling me not to give up and who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky; maybe Lucy will magically land on MTV at the same time we're on and she'll hear the song.

_Fat chance, Jones._

----

The interview is going just fine, the girl asking the same questions they always do, but then she drops the relationship question on Tom and I know Lucy's going to have to pop up somehow.

Tom admits to dating an American girl while blushing like a fool and then the interviewer asks the rest of us, "How about you boys? Any American girls catch your eye recently?"

Harry saves me from stuttering and stumbling on how to explain the Lucy situation by saying, "Well, we've only been here two days. Haven't really done much…'sight seeing.'"

"So no girlfriends back home then?"

"Not anymore," he says. "And Danny's completely screwed up anything even resembling a relationship since we've been a band."

I put on a fake smile and make it look like I'm play hitting him and put my whole body into it. What the hell does he think he's doing? Doesn't he realize what kind of questions that's going to bring up?

"I sense some drama here…?"

"You have no idea," Dougie replies with a small smile.

"Do tell."

Tom saves me. "It's a long story. Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Yes, but---" Dougie starts, but Tom stomps on his foot. Tom's great.

"Um, so anyway, thank you boys for joining us today. You're going to give us a special performance later, yes?"

We all nod and then we're told they're cutting to commercial.

"What the hell, Doug?" I say as I hit him on the arm.

"Ow!" he yelps. "Jeez, dude, relax."

"Relax?" I say. "Do you really think I want all of America to know about my Lucy situation?"

He rolls his eyes. "Sorry, all right?"

I sigh. "Sorry, mate," I tell him. "I'm just wicked…wound up right now."

"I'll say," he mutters and he rubs the arm I hit. "Next time though, don't hit me okay?"

"Deal," I say. "And next time, don't you go blabbing all my dirty little secrets. And same goes to you, Judd."

Harry looks at his feet and starts whistling innocently. I roll my eyes and then get ready to go on stage and put myself on the line.

----

I'm nervous.

I'm never nervous to go on stage and yet here I am, shaking and sweating.

"Breathe," I tell myself. "Just breathe."

Cheers from the crowd are drowned out from the thoughts in my head. _What if she never hears this?_

I say some things that I barely remember saying now and then I start playing, my fingers suddenly steady.

I'm singing the words right and playing correctly, but the whole time I'm thinking, _Please be listening. Please be listening._

The song is over and the crowd is cheering again and I force out a nervous smile and step off the stage, but not before tripping over my own feet.

"Nicely done, mate," Tom says, giving me a pat on the back. "Hope she heard it."

"Me, too," I say, but there's this bit of doubt in my head that's whispering, _Of course she didn't, you delusional idiot! _

"Oh!" Tom says suddenly, pulling something from his pocket. He sets it in my hands and I know all too well what this is. "I found it on the floor of the studio a few days ago." He knows it all too well, too.

Lucy's wallet. This has to mean something. I smile and give Tom a pat on the shoulder before heading off to our hotel room.

"Where you going?" Dougie asks curiously.

It's a ridiculous idea, really, but there's always that hope that this wallet makes me feel. I slip the wallet in my pocket and say, "Gonna go walk Bruce."

_And hopefully walk into someone else._


	38. An Escape

**Chapter Thirty-Seven.  
**  
**Lucy**

"I'm sorry miss, but I can't let you leave."

_Of course you can't._ "You don't understand," I try to tell the lady at the front desk. "There's an emergency."

"Yes there is," she says coolly. "There's ice nine inches thick on the sidewalk and snow up to your neck." I think she's exaggerating just a bit.

I sigh. "I need to leave," I plead. "You have got to let me out of here."

"For the safety of yourself, I cannot allow you to leave. I'm sorry."

_No you're not._ "All right," I finally say, sounding defeated. "Thanks anyway."

I'd sneak out the door and bolt if the door wasn't locked. But I guess I only really have one option.

Guess I'd better get going on crawling out the window.

----

I fall straight on my ass when I make my escape and now I'm all wet from the snow (and I don't have very good winter gear on right now) so I'm shivering as I make my way to the bus station.

Every single bus lane is closed but one and it's heading to New York City. That has to mean something, right?

The lady was definitely right about the ice, though. I keep slipping and sliding with every step I make. But at least there's not many people out on the sidewalk to dodge.

I'm not even sure where I'm supposed to be looking; after all, this is a big city. I probably should've looked up exactly where the interview was filmed but it's not like the internet was working anyway.

My hope starts to slowly decline as the numbness of my face rises. Maybe I should call Remy and see if she knows where they're staying.

I pull out my phone with my stiff and freezing fingers (and I'm wearing gloves) and dial Remy's number. It rings and rings and I'm muttering, "Come on, Remy!" under my breath between the rings. I get her voicemail and just hang up.

I'm attempting to shove my phone in my pocket when it fumbles between my fingers and falls on the sidewalk, sliding a good twenty feet away from me. "Shit," I say under my breath and just as I'm about to grab it, some woman accidentally kicks it further and now I'm on a wild goose chase for my phone that probably doesn't work now anyway.

Every time I get even remotely close to it, it gets kicked by either someone else or me. I don't give up though and I do eventually get it and pocket it.

I sit down on the bench for a minute to catch my breath and I wonder if I've lost any chance I've had with Danny. This whole thing with him has just been one disaster after another and now here I am, so close to frostbite, and yet, I can't give this up. Why is that?

_Because you love him, dummy,_ a voice in the back of my mind says.

Oh. Right. That'll do it then.

I sigh and put my head in my hands, hoping to warm up my face a little bit and that's when I hear barking from a distance that makes me pick up my head. I involuntarily start smiling; is that who I think it is?

I get up on my feet and steady myself (I'm still not graceful) and look around for that dog that jumped on me when I first moved to London. Delusional? Maybe. But my gut's telling me I'm not.

Something starts licking the back of my leg and I turn around and smile down at Bruce. "Hey boy," I say. "Great to see you." I bend down and start petting his head. He licks my face and I laugh, but lose my balance and fall over onto my back, barely missing hitting my head too hard on the sidewalk.

Bruce puts his front paws on my stomach, his tail wagging, and licks my face again.

"Bruce!"

My heart's just stopped and my whole body feels hot suddenly, just at the sound of his voice. I want to get up and see him, but I can't make myself move. I'm completely frozen.

I hear the crunching of ice and snow coming closer to me and I see Danny's feet and then he's bending down to my level, offering his hand.

"I'd take that," I say, "but I kind of can't move."

I hear him laugh and his hand slips away. I manage to look up at me, my stomach doing a back flip in the process, and notice just how red his nose is. Has he been out here a long time like me?

He smiles at me and I return it but it feels funny because my face is so cold. "On second thought," I start, "maybe I should move before I become permanently frozen to the sidewalk."

He laughs again and gives me his hand that isn't holding onto Bruce's leash and it feels so much warmer than mine and I manage to sit up. He takes a few strands of hair that are stuck on my face and brushes them away and my face flushes. Damn him and his effect on me.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," I say back and we're both just sitting in the middle of the sidewalk for what feels like forever just staring at each other until I finally say, "I saw you on TV."

"Yeah?" I nod. "I was actually going to sing it to you in person but you left." He sounds so hurt that it breaks my heart.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I…I don't really know what made me leave, honestly. I guess when you…said we wouldn't work out, I couldn't take being there anymore."

He looks guilty. "I didn't mean it," he confesses. "I guess I just got scared." But I know there's something more to his story than that, I can tell by the way his eyes won't meet mine. But you know what? I don't think I want to know. Because it doesn't matter. Not anymore.

"I think my face is numb," I mention randomly. "I've been walking around here for an hour at least."

He smiles. "Looking for me, were you?"

I roll my eyes. "Sure are conceited aren't you?"

He shakes his head. "Not conceited, just convinced."

"If you really must know, I was looking for you. But I have a feeling you were looking for me too."

He smiles that brilliant smile of his. "I guess I had a feeling you'd be here."

"Why is that?"

He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to me. "The wallet," he says. "I held onto it since the morning after we got drunk together---the first time---and when I gave it back to you in the studio, you must've dropped it."

"So…when you have this wallet, you know you'll see me again?" He nods. "And when you gave it back to me, you were basically saying you didn't want to see me again?" I don't know why I feel the need to bring this up. It really shouldn't matter, since he's here now, but I want to know.

"Ahem," someone says and both of us look up and see a man in a business suit tapping his foot at us. "Do you mind?"

For some reason, I start laughing hysterically. Danny joins in and the man just keeps standing there tapping his foot impatiently at the two crazy people sitting on the sidewalk during below zero weather. Bruce even starts barking between our fits.

"Forget it!" the man yells. "God, you people have gone crazy!"

The moment he leaves, the laughter fades and Danny stands up, brushing off his jeans and I notice that his butt is wet (okay, yes, I was staring at his butt; sue me) and I wonder just how bad mine is.

His hand extends down to mine once again and I take it once more, only this time when he takes it, he pulls me in and our bodies are pressed together. The warmth feels so amazing right now.

He strokes my cheek and whispers in his low voice, "It wasn't that I didn't want to see you again. In fact, handing that wallet over to you pretty much killed me."

"So then why'd you do it?"

He purses his lips. "Because that Catherine twit was blackmailing me and if I ever saw you again, it would mean bad things for Harry and the band."

Okay, I'm lost. "What?"

He explains everything and I'm completely stunned. "Only you," I say, "would get into that situation."

"I know," he says with a smile. "But it's all better now." He strokes my cheek again, making my face feel all hot again. "I love you, Lucy."

My lips are numb until he bends down and puts his on mine. Now they're tingling, just like they did on Halloween and I'm not even remotely cold anymore. He grabs my hand and our fingers lock together and just like that, the world disappears. The people gaping at us or bumping into us aren't registering in our brains. Bruce's barking sounds more distant than it should even though he's right next to us. For once, it's just him and me, no complications and no setups involved. Some would call this kind of thing fate.

As for me? I don't care if it's fate or coincidence or a freak accident. Because all I have to say now is, _It's about time._

**THE END.**

**A/N: **I'd like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading/favoriting/alterting/reviewing/whatever. It means a lot to me and your comments have made me smile. :) I dunno if anyone was wondering if there would be a sequel to this, but I will let you know right now there will not be one. Sequels aren't really my thing.

Thanks so much again and I hope you enjoyed reading Goldfish and Fruit Punch. :)


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